“I wouldn’t say that.” At least not aloud. But as I look over my shoulder, I realize the truth in her words. Snow melts from the top, dripping into the rushing stream below that dips and heads away. Turning back, I get my very first look at Silent Springs. “Whoa.”
“Yep.” Lark gazes up at me. “You convinced yet? This place is magical.”
“I see the appeal.” Yeah, no, it’s a full-on lie. Saffron, Lark, and even Arlo have me eating my words right now. Silent Springs isn’t just magical, it is unlike any other place in this world.
Granted, we’ve done nothing but drive up the East Coast for days, and we’ve seen so many beautiful sights, not to mention our home city of Atlanta. We drove through Virginia, along long stretches of highway, and flat plains to the surprise mountain ranges of Pennsylvania that led into New York. Each state is beautiful in its own unique way, but not one of those statespulled the giddy, childlike feeling from me the way the sight before me does.
That mountain we saw on the way here rises in the distance, with snowcaps and a cloud that hovers around its peak. The scene is set against a clear blue sky with clouds dotted here and there, making everything look more cartoon-like than real.
That’s just the backdrop. Before us, trees dot the edges of the wide road lined with little shops, while the center of town rises with a singular pine tree that appears hundreds of years old. The town itself?
The shops?
Apartments?
It’s like Lark and I stepped into a little picturesque part of the world that exists in its own personal bubble. The sidewalk begins, and trees line the walkways with little iron fences around them. Snow melts and drips from their turning leaves, some with forgotten apples and what I swear are plums.
As we step onto the sidewalk with not one crack, I look back at Lark. Her eyes are wide as she takes in each little ancient shop. The first one on the right is a flower shop. A little parking lot rests before the solid brick that rises with the mural of a bouquet of flowers in all shades of the color spectrum—not graffiti with expletives, but a freaking bouquet.
“I’ll say it again, we aren’t in Georgia anymore.”
“We sure aren’t, kid.” The awe in my voice comes across with each word spoken. “Come on, let’s go find Arlo.”
CHAPTER 5
“Let me get this straight.”I drum my fingers on the countertop, chastising myself because I should have gone to the school first. I should have begun this journey with a positive and not this big, heaping scoop of cow dung. “You can’t fix my car?”
“Well, no.” For the first time, Arlo looks sheepish, running his hands through his hair and messing up the small ponytail that keeps it off his face. Today, he’s wearing a stained black shirt, the dark color an attempt to hide the oil stains. “How many people did you pass on the way in who drove a Volkswagen bug?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I shriek before calming my nerves and taking a breath.
“Not one of them drives anything other than a truck that I can fix.” A blush stains his cheeks before he admits, “I’m not certified to fix a Volkswagen.”
I rub my temples, easing the headache I feel pulsating behind my eyes. “What do I do?” I ask him softly. My stomach tightens with nerves. At first, this felt like a fun adventure, when I thought my car wouldn’t take long to fix. Now my choice of a vehicle strands us in a town where we don’t know anyone aside from the two people who helped us out so far. I don’t even haveall of our things, just the bare essentials. Our pod is probably at my brother’s house with all of our belongings.
It holds my complete wardrobe and our entire life, including all of Lark’s baby pictures. I swallow back my tears. I really didn’t think this was a possibility.
“Hey.” Arlo reaches out, grabbing one of my hands and squeezing gently. It’s a move his mom offered Lark not that long ago, and one he now gives me. That strange pulse of comfort warms my blood and sends a shiver across my skin, though I’m not cold. Not in here, in his garage, with the heat blasting me hard enough to make my hair tickle my face. “I’ll figure this out, I promise.”
I angrily swipe at a rogue tear that jumps out of my eye and onto my cheek—a physical representation of vulnerability that angers me. I nod before swallowing my pride and blowing out a breath. “All right, how?”
“That’s the spirit.” He grins at me before it falls flat and he pulls his hand back. “I have a few ideas, but you won’t like the answers, so I need you to be at your best.” He reaches under the counter and pulls out a brown paper bag and two to-go cups of coffee.
“Oh no.” Lark hops up from the plastic chair, snatching up a cup with her name on the front. “Hot chocolate?” She frowns at the cup as I snatch my normal cup of black coffee. “Mom is easily subdued with gifts. You learn quickly.”
“I resent that.” I sip the bitter liquid as I peek into the bag, finding not one, but two oversized chocolate chip muffins with that sugar coating that gives it the perfect crunch. “Oh, you’re good.”
“I had to prepare for the backlash.” He itches behind his ear, not wanting to meet my gaze.
“Spill it.” Besides, how much worse can it get?
“Option one. I have the closest Volkswagen mechanic tow your bug out there.” Again, he scratches behind his ear. “But it’s going to cost a couple thousand, and that’s on top of whatever repairs you need.”
“Next.” I grab the muffin and dig in with the force of a velociraptor, scattering crumbs all over the counter.
“A friend of mine is a Volkswagen mechanic out of Philadelphia. He’s willing to come out here and fix it.”
“Again, for a price, I assume?” I get it. Honestly, I would expect the same.
