The Telling
“Josh tells me over the phone. His usually rich, bouncy voice is flat this morning.
“Oh?” I say, trying to mask my disappointment. I wasn’t hoping for bad news about Ford per se, I just didn’t want good news, either. The enchanted island in my mind punishes people like Maggie and Ford. I switch off the water I was running over a basket of blackberries in the sink and dump the berries into a cereal bowl. It’s midmorning, and Dad is either out running errands or at his office downtown. Basel is meowing at my feet, trying to persuade me to give him a second breakfast. I usually give in.
“Can I just come over to tell you?” Josh asks abruptly after a weirdly long break.
I place the honey back on the shelf after squeezing a golden thread on the berries. “Sure,” I say. My stomach’s instantly fluttery. Josh and I have been alone only a handful of times since the first night he drove me home from Marmalade’s. “Are we still going to meet at Becca’s later to finish planning Ben’s prank?”
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