“I saw the clothes you’ve been working on.”
I blush. “Oh.”
“They’re really good.”
“Thanks.”
“And I swear I wasn’t snooping,” she says. “But I was putting your clean clothes in your room, and your sketchbook was open on your bed…. Those designs are incredible, Ellis.”
“They’re okay,” I say, looking at the ground.
“How are you the most self-assured person I know—until it comes tothis?” she asks. “They’re unique and beautiful and, whether it was intentional or not, theysoperfectly capture fall in this town.”
“Yeah?” My lips involuntarily curve up at the corners. It was entirely intentional.
She nods. “They’re perfect.”
“Thanks, Mommy.” I lay my head on her shoulder and she laughs.
“You haven’t called me Mommy in, like, ten years. I miss it.”
“Maybe I should start again,” I say.
“You’re welcome to, but people might think you’re a weirdo.” I lift my head and she turns to me. “Are you still miserable here?”
I shake my head, truthfully. “No. I’ve had fun here, actually.” But I’m ready to go back to the city—now more than ever, given the Cooper situation. I’m ready to get back to my internship and to my real, drama-free life and to my future.
Only a couple more weeks.
A few minutes later, Sloane bounces over to us with her mom trailing behind.
“Want to hop on some rides?” she asks me as she practically inhales her corn dog.
“Sure.”
“Maybe something that doesn’t spin, though. I’m not trying to puke all over this cute shirt you gave me,” she says, looking down at the blue plaid button-down I cropped for her. She takes my hand and pulls me toward the rides.
“You two have fun,” Mom calls from behind me.
Since Aunt Naomi and the Lively family found enough volunteers and don’t need us today, Sloane and I spend the next few hours riding every ride and drinking lemonade and eating fried Oreos. At some point, we meet up with Asher and eventually run into Jake and Slug. We all attend the goat show and the community art show, and it takes everything in me not to ask where Cooper is. At four thirty, Jake and Slug saunter off to the pie-eating contest, and Sloane, Asher, and I grab a map and enter the thirty-acre corn maze.
“You guys are cheaters if you’re going to use a map,” I tell them.
“Believe me, wewanta map. This thing gets intense. It’s massive and easy to get lost. Not to mention people rarely have phone service out here,” Sloane says.
She’s right about the cell service—I haven’t had it all day. This farm is like a dead zone. But: “It’s a maze. It’s supposed to be a challenge,” I say.
Sloane looks at Asher. “Fold it up,” he says with a shrug. “We’ll have it in case. Let’s see if we can do this without it.”
She sighs as she folds it and shoves it into her pocket. And we’re off.
We make our way through the towering cornstalks, slipping deeper into the twisty labyrinth with each step as the screams and laughter of the festivalgoers fade into the background.
After an hour of walking, Sloane lets out a groan. “My feet hurt.”
“Wimp,” I murmur.
She slaps my shoulder. “Shut up. Not all of us are fueled by a challenge.”
