I wishshewould show it tomeagain.
Mom presses her forehead to mine. “I’ll be back before youknow it, Luce.” Then, with a tipped-up chin and a wink, she bolts, taking off toward the stairs with her robe fluttering behind her. “C’mon! And bring the champagne!” she yells.
Dad pats my shoulder, reaching into the cabinet where we store a collection of alcohol-free sparkling wine for this exact reason. We were caught without it once, and I willnotbe called the world’s worst bridesmaid again. Turns out, my mother is a bit of a bridezilla. “I’ll get John on the phone,” Dad says, handing me the bottle.
John keeps a spare cake in his deep freezer for days like this.
“I’ll put up the sign,” I reply, voice resigned. I walk toward the front of the house where a brightly painted purple door connects Dad’s office to the storefront. I reach to the back of the office’s closet, grab theClosed for a Weddingsign, and make my way to the shop’s front door.
Clyde, the oldest man alive, who is also,tragically,my only real friend in town, is already waiting there for me. I unlock the top and bottom of the door, then push it open. “Morning, Clyde.”
He fixes his cap in greeting. “Good morning, doll.”
“We’re closed for the day, I’m afraid.” I hold up the sign to him before securing it with a binder clip to the shop’s hours sign. “Sorry.”
He nods slowly, reading it over. “Ah, no bother. I’ll pop by later for some cake then.” I watch as he begins to walk away, turning toward his daughter’s house across the street. “D’ya need Lynn to bring anything by?”
I shake my head no, and he nods.
“Thank you, though. See you later,” I say, knowing he’s already out of earshot. As soon as I step aside to make sure he’s gotten over the curb okay, a huge gust of wind forces the door open, slamming it against the store’s outer wall.
“Shit!” I startle, clasping my chest.
“Careful!” Clyde shouts, holding his hat in place. “It’s a windy one today!”
“Perfect day for a wedding!” I yell back sardonically, grumbling under my breath as I move to shut the door. “Tenth time’s the charm,” I whisper to myself, locking it in place.
My mother sewed me the most beautiful pair of wings.
She decorated them with lace, diamonds, and pearls.
Nothing too heavy, as to not weigh me down.
Nothing too light, to teach me my strength.
Then, she placed them on my back and hoped for the best.
Only, I didn’t want anyone else to see them.
—P.W.
Three
Milo
“It doesn’tlookopen,” Nadia says from the passenger seat, leaning forward to look around me and toward the gas station’s store.
“Maybe they’re closed on Sundays?” I say, flicking the fuel gauge. Sometimes, if I’m lucky and hit it just right, Bertha will tell me I’m low on gasbeforeI run out of fuel. Today, I’m not so lucky. We’ll have to gamble that we’ve got enough to get to Nik’s place.
“Their Facebook page says otherwise.” She shows me her screen, where every item nearly past its sell-by date gets its own dedicated post in screaming all caps. “Open seven days a week,” she reads in her best radio-DJ voice, “Welch’s: We’ve got what you forgot.”
“Here’s a wild idea, you could just get out of the car and go check?” I offer a smile that is anything but sweet.
“Do you have cash on you?”
“No, why?”
“Okay, do you trust me with your PIN number?”
