Page 70 of The Serpent King

“So. Are you going?”

“Yeah. I am.” She said it gently. She must have heard the hopeful lilt in his voice.

She got up, walked around the table, and gave him a lingering hug, running her fingers through the back of his hair. She’d been finding more excuses to hug him lately.

“What was that for?” Dill asked.

“Because you looked like your heart stepped on a Lego.”

Dill stared at his Hosanna Hot Chocolate. “I’m happy for you. You wouldn’t be happy here and I wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.”

“I know.”

“Please don’t forget about me.”

“I never will. You’re my best friend.”

“Have you told Travis?”

“Not yet. He’s out selling firewood tonight. Did you know he was doing that?”

“Yeah, I did.” And that’s not the only thing we’ve kept from you.

They sat and nursed their drinks. They heard the wail of sirens. They turned and looked outside to see an ambulance speed past, followed by two police cars.

“So, I have some good news too, I guess. A little more of a plan for when I graduate,” Dill said.

Lydia raised her eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Tell me.”

“Trav and I are going to rent a place together and be roommates. We’re both superexcited. He’ll write stories and I’ll write songs. And our lame dads won’t be allowed.”

Lydia tilted her head and smiled. “That sounds awesome. A tiny bohemian artists’ colony right here in Forrestville.”

Dill grew more animated. As if trying to persuade Lydia that it really was awesome, which was what he was doing. As if trying to persuade himself, which was what he was doing. “We’re planning on having Friday-night movie nights still. We thought maybe you could join us sometimes on video chat. Not every time, because obviously you’ll be busy.”

“I would sincerely be honored.” After a while she said, “Is this what you want, Dill?”

“It’s as close as I’m going to get,” he said, after a moment’s reflection.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you—that you be happy and live the life you want to live. I thought you’d need to leave here to do that, but maybe not.”

“Maybe not.”

And Dill realized that maybe he wasn’t so easy to read. If he were, Lydia would have asked him why he looked as though he felt like his heart was being pulled from his chest, fiber by fiber, cell by cell, molecule by molecule. And instead of killing him, it only hollowed him out.

Raynar Northbrook perched atop the isolated redoubt, keeping his lone vigil by the river. If any scouts of Rand Allastair’s came this way, they would meet a fiercer foe than they had anticipated. There were others who could and gladly would sit at this lonesome post in his place, but he did not ask of his men that which he was unwilling to do himself. And they loved him for it.

Travis sat on top of the remnants of his firewood. It didn’t seem like it would be a great spot—it was right by the river and not especially close to any houses or businesses. But Lamar recommended it, and he was right.

How’s the firewood selling? Amelia texted.

Pretty good night, especially after Doc B bought so much. Few more nights like this and I can afford a new laptop, Travis replied.

When do I get to read the story you wrote?

LOL once Lydia tells me what I need to fix. I want you to see the best version.

I bet it’s great already. You’re so smart.