BRAVE CHOICES

LARAMIE IS ABSENT ON TUESDAY. EVEN THOUGH I’M kind of glad we don’t have to sit across from each other at the lunch table being awkward, I send her a text to check in, remembering how Nicolette asked about her yesterday at the beach. She says she’s fine, just home with a sick stomach.

Edie is in a slightly better mood. When I saw her in math class, she apologized for not getting back to me until late yesterday. Her mom took her on a last-minute trip to Santa Cruz over the long weekend. I saw their car pull into the driveway after dark, when I was already getting ready for bed. When she texted back, I told her I had something to tell her today.

She tells the guys about the Halloween party and says they’re all invited. She doesn’t even say anything to Jamie when he mumbles that it must be her favorite holiday. She just arches her eyebrow so fiercely that he doesn’t utter another word.

I’m practically bursting by the time school is over. The 1968 journal is buried at the bottom of my backpack, but I can feel it burning hot as Edie and I walk home.

“Want to stop by Coleman Creamery?” I ask as we get to the main drag.

“I thought you had something to tell me.” She’s looking down at her phone, but the screen is black and she’s not actually using it. Just staring, like she’s willing it to do something.

“I do, but I can tell you over ice cream. Leif’s treat.” I’m a little worried I won’t be able to make it the few blocks home. Every time I think about the journal, I feel itchy trying to keep the news in.

“Okay, but my dad is supposed to call sometime before dinner, so I might have to talk to him.”

A few of the restaurants in town shut down for the year once the summer is over, but Coleman Creamery is open off-season. Usually only a few hours a day, but always after school. And it’s always packed with kids doing homework, shouting over one another, and making Leif’s job difficult.

He’s working today and looks relieved to see us when we walk in. “Finally, someone I can talk to. I just had to break up an ice-cream fight over there,” he says, pointing to a table of sixth graders. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going good,” I say.

Edie smiles at him but doesn’t say anything.

“Butter pecan, Alberta?” Leif asks, wielding the scooper in his plastic-gloved hand.

I start to say yes, but then I stop. I think about Constance and all the brave choices she made in her life. She took chances, even when she knew how scary it could be. I’ve always gotten butter pecan because I know I like it and won’t be disappointed… but it’s just ice cream. If I hate whatever I try, I can get butter pecan the next time.

“Actually… I want to try something new. You can choose.”

“You got it, boss.” He paces behind the case with his eyes narrowed as he studies the tubs of ice cream. He stops, pointing his scoop to the front row. “There it is. Honey rhubarb. You want a taste?”

“No… I trust you.” I watch him dig out a heaping scoopful. “Hey, is Laramie okay? She said she had a stomachache.”

Leif rolls his eyes. “I guess. She barely talks to me since school started. She about bit my head off when I asked her if she had any plans on Saturday. I just wanted to know if she needed a ride anywhere.”

“Yeah… she’s been like that with me, too.” And, to be honest, I’m relieved that it’s not just me.

He sighs, handing me the cup of ice cream. “Middle school girls, man.” Then he pauses. “High school girls, too. You’re all tough to figure out.”

“Like you guys are so much better,” Edie says, talking for the first time since we walked in. Her eyes flit over the ice-cream case. “Can I get a scoop of rocky road in a cone?”

I slide a bite of ice cream on my tongue and let it melt. I close my eyes. I haven’t had anything but butter pecan in years. And this is amazing. It’s tart and sweet and light at the same time. I eat half my cup before Leif has even scooped up Edie’s rocky road.

When he walks out to the floor to wipe down tables, I pull out the journal, open it to the entry I read last night, and push it in front of Edie.

But she’s not paying attention. She’s still looking at her phone, even though it hasn’t lit up once since we left school.

“He’ll call,” I say in my best encouraging voice. “And you’re going to see him again. I’m sure he feels really bad that he—”

“That’s easy for you to say, Alberta! You have so many people here who…” She stops, takes a shaky breath, and goes on. “You have two dads, and now you have your bio mom, and—you don’t get it. My dad is my favorite person on the planet and everyone’s acting like it’s okay that I’ll only get to see him a few times a year now.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. And I really mean it. She’s right. I don’t know what it’s like to have divorced parents. Or a dad I only get to talk to over the phone.

“Well, if you’re sorry, then stop telling me it’s going to be okay,” Edie snaps. “I’m tired of hearing that, especially from someone who has no idea what it’s like. It’s not going to be okay until I get to see my dad.”

I shrink into myself like she slapped me. Edie has been quiet lately. Cranky, for sure. But she’s the one who kept telling me everything was fine with her dad. And she’s never talked to me like that. Her voice seeps into me like venom. I drop my spoon; the ice cream is sour on my tongue.

Denise said Laramie’s moodiness probably has nothing to do with me, and I know Edie’s doesn’t, either. But I’m tired of people snapping at me when I’m just trying to be a good friend to them.

I hop down from the stool, zip up my backpack, and push my shoulders through the straps.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. It’s the only place nobody’s ever mad at me.”

“Alberta—”

“You should read that journal.” I stab my finger at the book in front of her. The book she never even bothered to look at, after all the time we’ve spent trying to figure this out. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. I think Constance used to own the B&B. Mrs. Harris was passing for white.”

Edie’s eyes widen. “Alberta, wait—”

But I stalk away from her, straight for the door. The mooing cow is the last sound I hear.