Page 72 of Her Pretty Words

My sister calls my name from our room.

“Sounds like you’re being summoned,” he says.

I climb out of his lap and ruffle his hair like he always does to me, making him laugh. He reaches out and does the same to me.

Delilah is sitting on the floor, emptying her sparkly backpack. She has a twenty-dollar bill resting beside her. “Do you want me to get you a toy with your money?” she asks.

A lot of my friends from school fight with their sisters. I don’t. Not ever. She’s my best friend. So is Macy. I would never fight with either of them. “Yeah.” I grin.

“What do you want?”

She always picks out cool toys. “You choose.”

Her eyes light up and then we slap our hands together in a familiar way. It’s our secret handshake. “Gotta go,” I say, rushing to the hallway. “Bye, Lilah!” I call over my shoulder as I race to my parents’ room.

“Love you!” she calls.

“Love you too!”

I knock on their bedroom door so my mom can walk me to the Brookes’ house. She comes out of her room with a knowing smile. I always catch her watching Macy and I play with the same look on her face. She pinches my cheek and I laugh. “Are you positive you don’t want to come with us today?”

“Yes, Mom,” I mumble.

She laughs and it’s bright and happy. “All right. Come on, I’ll walk you there.”

I reach up and hold her hand with a wide smile on my face when we cross the yard between my house and Macy’s grandparents’. I try not to feel sad waiting for someone to open the door, knowing it’s going to be a year until I see Macy again.A year sounds like forever.

Her grandma greets me with a warm hug like always, and then I wave my mom goodbye and dart inside the house.

Macy’s hair is wild in the mornings before she brushes it, and today is no exception. She sits at the table, dancing in herchair and eating pancakes. Once she notices me, a bright smile overtakes her face. She takes one large bite before leaving her plate and running out the sliding glass door. She calls over her shoulder, “You can’t catch me!”

I laugh and chase her, but she’s much faster than I am. She gets smaller along the shoreline. I stop to catch my breath, my hands on my knees. She peeks over her shoulder and runs my way. Once she’s within range, she says, “Slow poke.”

“When you come back next summer, I’ll finally catch up to you. I’m going to practice every day.”

She looks at the sand, using her foot to draw random shapes in it.

“Are you okay?” I ask when she doesn’t say anything else.

When she nods, her chin quivers. She angles her face down so I can’t see it. I reach for her hand and squeeze in encouragingly. She slowly meets my gaze with tears in her eyes.

My chest squeezes. “What’s wrong?”

She sniffles. “I’m scared to leave. A year is a really long time.”

My throat tightens again, but I won’t cry. I’ll be strong for her, like my dad always is for my mom. I notice something round washed up, so I walk over to it and see it’s a sand dollar. I hand it to her, but her frown deepens.

“What’s the matter?”

“I can’t take this with me. It’ll break.”

Oh. “Well, I’ll hold onto it until you come back. Okay?”

“You promise?”

“I pinky promise.” I hold out my smallest finger and she wraps hers around it.

“Riveting! I can’t wait to see it when I return.”

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