Stella walked to the purple pen and opened the journal to a blank page. She didn’t need to question what the words wanted. Theywantedto be written down. But why? What did the words mean? At the top of a clean page, she wrote,I fell in.
Fell in what? Stella thought of a dozen things she’d fallen into over the past year. Despair, hopelessness, faux love. She’d also fallen into books, into fits of laughter with Ariel, and into silence at the sight of a sunset.
She stared at the purple words on the page, a crease forming between her brows. A shiver ran up her arms as she closed the journal. Part of her wanted to shrug off this new experience with her beloved words, to say it was no big deal. But she placed a hand over her heart and knew they were no ordinary words. They had an agenda... one that might burn a hole right through her.
Chapter 2
Sleeping peacefully wasn’t in the scope of possibilities for Stella, not after the blistering eruption of purple words demanded her attention in a way that frightened her. When she was younger, Stella saw words every day, especially when her mother was still with them. As she’d grown, they slowed to appear a few times a week. But never, in all her years of word spotting, hadanyof them felt like last night. She desperately wished the purple-words experience was an anomaly, a freak occurrence.
But she had doubts—a truckload of them. Mainly because the wordsI fell inmeant nothing to her, which led her to believe there was more... More what? She didn’t know. The idea of more words accompanied by more pain bred trepidation within her.
At ten the next morning Stella dragged herself down the wide, concrete library entrance stairs, masking a yawn behind her hand. A pink van idled at the curb. Ariel waved at her through the window. A group of kids walking up the sidewalk made hand signals forAriel to press the horn. She obliged, and the kids burst into laughter at the artificial dog woofing. Oh to be young, rested, and joyful.
Stella opened the passenger door and hauled herself up into the cab. This month Ariel had a stripe of fuchsia dye ribboning through her blond ponytail. Last month it was sherbet orange, and the month before had been aqua, but only the hair underneath the top layer. Ariel’s fresh face was makeup free with a tinted sunscreen to protect her fair complexion. A scattering of tan freckles connecting on the bridge of her button nose trailed along both cheeks. She looked rested, an obvious contrast to Stella’s exhausted state.
“Thanks for picking me up.” Stella wrinkled her nose at the smell of shampoo and cooked pork. “Why does it smell like—”
“Bacon? Delicious buttery biscuits?” Ariel finished. She reached behind her head to a built-in metal shelf and retrieved an oversize white paper sack. She handed the bag to Stella. The bottom was still warm.
“I swung by the diner and grabbed breakfast for us. You know how packed it is on Sundays, so I thought we could drive to the park but dine in so we can enjoy the AC. At first I considered a quick morning picnic, but—”
“It’s June and definitely too hot?” Stella said.
“Like swampy hot,” Ariel agreed. “You should see the line at Frost Bites.”
Stella buckled her seat belt. “It’s probably a mile long.”
“At least two miles, and it’s not even lunchtime.” Ariel shifted the van into Drive. “Can you imagine what July and August will feel like?”
Stella nodded. “Like walking on the sun.”
“Barefoot.” Ariel slipped on a pair of oversize silver sunglassesand turned up the radio. “Under the Boardwalk” blasted on the oldies station, and Ariel belted out the tune as the van wound its way through town toward the city park. She glanced over at Stella. “You’re not singing. Why aren’t you singing? We love this song.”
Stella yawned again and shrugged. “You take the solo today.”
Once they were parked and gazing out over a vibrant-green swath of grass and mature oak trees, Stella unpacked the bag on the dashboard. There was an egg white, kale, and tomato biscuit for Ariel and a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit for Stella. Ariel had also ordered extra biscuits to share. Stella divided the wad of flimsy brown napkins and unwrapped her biscuit.
“I didn’t think to ask for plates,” Ariel said, folding down the paper wrapped around her biscuit.
Stella waved off the idea that they needed a fancier setup. “Just more trash to bother with. How’s your morning been? Any outrageous requests?”
Ariel covered her mouth and half chewed, half laughed. “Pretty tame morning. I had an early wash and trim first thing over in Willow Lake, and after this little break with you, my day is jam-packed. I’m counting on this breakfast to hold me over through the afternoon.”
“You need me to bring you lunch?” Stella asked. “I don’t mind, and Arnie won’t care if I cut out for a bit.”
Ariel shook her head, and her moonstone earrings swayed. “Nah, but thanks. I’d rather push through and then take a longer dinner break to eat without stressing about running behind.”
They ate in silence for a few beats. Stella’s mind drifted to last night’s words, and she rubbed a ghost ache from her collarbone. She couldn’t work out what any of it meant by overthinking, but that didn’t stop her brain from darting all over in an attempt to solve the mystery.
As she bit into the biscuit, her mind refocused on breakfast. The local diner, Grits & Gravy, baked the absolute best biscuits in the world, and Stella would debate this with anyone, knowing she’d win. Unlike stereotype diners that were grease pits, Grits & Gravy was anything but a sloppy, grease-filled locale. The food was an unusual combination of comforting and sophisticated. The menu was filled with homey favorites, but all the ingredients were fresh and food was cooked to order, elevating the usual diner fare.
The buttery biscuit had a crunch on the bottom with a soft, pillowy, layered center, and Stella couldn’t imagine anything more perfect to sandwich between it than her favorite breakfast combo: bacon, eggs, and melted American cheese.
“These biscuits are everything,” she said.
Ariel nodded. “Divinely inspired.”
“Mind-blowing.”
