Page 39 of The Dangers of Daydreaming

She closed her laptop. “My mom was never interested in the news. All I heard was from a few people at school that you moved. Maybe something about it… but no specific information.”

“Well, I did. Move.”

“Jeez, Finn, that must have sucked. That must have really sucked.”

“Yeah.”

“Crap.”

I looked over again. “What?”

Her hands twisted around the edges of her laptop, nervous. “I was so mean.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve established that that was me.”

“No, you were a teenage boy. Ah—no, I’m not saying you were perfect, so you can wipe that unrepentant grin from your face, but… I was, I was—” she waved her hands wildly. “I was so happy you were gone. You were my tormentor. My nemesis. The shark attack to my beautiful beach day—and then you were gone, and I was so… glad.” She spun in her chair, facing me head-on though I couldn’t do more than shoot quick glances her way. “I’m such a jerk. I had no clue why you’d left, and I’m so sorry.” She paused. “What about… what about your mom?”

“Dead,” I said, the cherry on top of this uplifting conversation. “When I was three.”

“I am so sorry.” She honestly sounded on the verge of tears.

“Hey, it’s totally fine, it’s not your fault my home life was a mess.”

Her hands were still in the air, and she let them fall with a sigh.

I tossed her a grin. “Your ‘shark attack on a beautiful beach day’?”

Silence, then, “I may have gotten a bit carried away.”

“You should write a book.”

“And use all those big words you used to make fun of me for?”

“I notice you don’t use quite so many. Has your vocabulary diminished or has mine grown?”

“Are you implying that you have, at long last, succeeded in transcending the limitations of your rudimentary lexicon?”

I burst out laughing. “Lexicon?”

“It just means vocabulary.”

“Thank you, dictionary.”

She gave a little bow. But after another moment, she said again, “I am really sorry, Finn. That’s a rough… that’s a lot.”

“Yeah, sorry to dump it all on you.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant it’s a lot for a teenage kid to go through. I’m glad you had your grandparents, but I wish you didn’t need to move.”

“But if I hadn’t, I would have dug a deeper hole with you. There would have been no saving us. And look how good we’re doing now.”

She smiled over at me, those pink lips all sorts of tantalizing, but I forced my eyes back on the road as I flipped on my blinker, turning onto the red dirt drive flanked by green pastures that led to the Seacow Head Lighthouse.

Lucy leaned toward the windshield. “Oh my gosh, it’s perfect.”

I pulled into the dirt parking lot. The lighthouse was across the street, and only a handful of cars inhabited the lot with us, so it wouldn’t be very busy. That was perfect. It wasn’t a large lighthouse, so when it was overrun with tourists, it was a lot less enjoyable.

We got out of the van and started walking. I tried to see the lighthouse as Lucy might see it. It had a stark white, wooden exterior with a bright red cap. It was cute. Well-maintained. Charming.

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