I wolfed down the last of my breakfast and went to change into one of my favorite t-shirts. A bright yellow tee emblazoned with, “The Cops Never Think It’s As Funny As You Do!”across the front, black yoga pants, and black Birkenstocks. I had to admit the compression sock really helped. It didn’t go with my Birks, but I didn’t care.
“I’m ready to go,” I said, walking back into the kitchen.
Chase turned, handed me my hot tea, then he threw back his head and laughed. “Are youseriouslywearing that shirt?”
“Yep,” I said proudly. “I always wear it when I have to do community service. It’s nice and bright so others can see me.”
“You have the strangest clothes.”
We headed out toward the east end of town by an old mill overlooking Lake Shandy. Chase said the mill used to employ almost half of Trinity Falls. Now it was mostly used as a bike and walking path around the water.
I was excited to see Mimi and Ingrid leaning against Mimi’s car as we drove up. They were dressed in bright orange shirts with “Trinity Falls Chain Gang”splashed across the front. Laughing, I hopped out of the truck and hobbled over to them.
“You’re hopping along pretty good there,” Mimi said. “Nice shirt. Bet Chase loved it.”
I grinned and looked back at him. “He did. Almost as much as I’m sure he likes your shirt.”
Chase shook his head. “Doesn’t anyone take community service seriously anymore?”
The blaring of a car horn filled the air, and instant recognition made me scream and turned around awkwardly. Careening down the road was a ’73 Volkswagen van with hand painted peace signs and daisies.
“It’s my mom and dad!” I practically shouted to Chase.
“Really?” he deadpanned. “I’d never have guessed.”
“How did they know I’d be here?” I asked.
“I cleared it with Clifford,” Chase said.
I gaped at him. “You did? That’s so…kindof you.”
He snorted. “Shocking, I know.”
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“That was a nice thing you did, Chase,” Mimi said.
Dad pulled the van into the parking lot, and I half ran, half hobbled over to them. Mom hopped down before the van came to a stop and ran to me, wrapping me tightly in her arms. I closed my eyes and breathed her in. She smelled of lavender and patchouli. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a thick braid, and she was wearing a maxi patchwork skirt with a “Got Hemp?” light pink t-shirt.
“Your aura is looking a little peaked,” Mom said. “You need to take better care of yourself.”
“Give her a break, Starla,” Dad said as he walked in front of the van and opened his arms. “Come give your poppa a kiss.”
Squealing, I hobbled over and threw my arms around him. I’d missed him more than I realized. Unlike Mom, his braid wasn’t near as thick or dark. But he wore it proudly, along with his faded bell bottom jeans, “Impeach Nixon”shirt, and red Birkenstocks.
“How’s my little girl?” he asked. “Is the fuzz treating you okay?”
I laughed and looked back at Chase, who was watching us with apprehension. “The fuzz has a name, Dad.” I motioned Chase over. Even though he looked like he’d rather eat glass, he slowly walked over to where we stood.
“Careful,” Dad said, “here comes the five-o. Show no fear.”
“Be nice,” I warned.
“Sir,” Chase said, holding his hand out to Dad. “Nice to meet you. I’m Chase Cryer.”
Dad scowled. “The copper that’s shacking up with my daughter?”
“Larry!” Mom scolded before turning to Chase. “Pay him no mind. He gets crazy when he sees a cop.”
