Page 1 of Dear Rosie

PROLOGUE – ROSIE

(AGE EIGHT)

The surface is warm under my palm as I press the back door closed.

It clicks. And I wait. But there’s no shouting from the other side.

I exhale.

Then I turn and run.

My stained sneakers are quiet on the grass. The overgrown lawn silencing my escape.

I’m sure mowing will become a chore of mine, but I’m not big enough yet.

Maybe next year.

But that’s a next-year problem. And I have enough problems already, so there’s no point in wasting time thinking about a future one.

I slow as I reach the chain-link fence.

The little can of grease I stole from the gas station keeps the gate from creaking as I carefully push it open.

My shirt already has one tear, so I’m careful not to catch it on the broken piece of wire as I shimmy through.

Once the gate swings closed, I let my cheeks puff out on my exhale, the final obstacle done.

It’s a little later than I usually meet Nathan, but he’ll wait.

He always does.

A stick crunches under my foot, and I hurry through a few more steps until the forest surrounds me.

I breathe in the air.

It’s dirt and grass and that freshness you can only get outside.

Once I’m about twenty feet in, I turn right.

My house is the second to last one on my end of the street, two stories of… bad.

Nathan’s house is all the way on the other end of the street. It’s on a big corner lot, and it’s really nice.

I’ve never been inside, but I’ve studied it from the back, wishing my bus route went past it so I could look at the front unnoticed. But someday I’ll see the inside.

When our friendship isn’t a secret anymore.

I smile at the thought.

I bet it smells like flowers inside.

I bet his mom is nice. She probably puts snacks out.

Lost in my daydream, I don’t realize I’ve reached the meeting spot until I see Nathan’s bright white shirt.

He’s sitting on the thick log—where we’ve scraped the bark off to make the sitting part smoother—with his head lowered.

I bite down on my smile when I see the bag of marshmallows beside him.

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