Page 3 of The Charmed Friends of Trove Isle
Melody turned the key that poked out of the case’s lock and slid the glass door open. Then she reached for the jewelry, picked it up, and inspected the dangling charms. A house, a car, a muffin, a tiny camera, and . . . a friendship charm.
The breath whooshed out of her so hard that she had to brace her hands on the glass case to keep from sinking to the floor. The charm was dented on the top left bend of the heart. A defect that identified this charm as the very one that Melody and her friends had all shared. But this wasn’t possible. This bracelet was lost in the car accident that had killed Alyssa, who’d been wearing it that horrible night. No one had ever seen the piece of jewelry again. How had it gotten here?
Melody blinked the bracelet into focus, her breaths coming out fast and shallow. The idea was that they’d take turns wearing the bracelet. When it was their turn, they had to do something amazing. Something that scared them. That made their heart race.
“In a good way,” Alyssa had said with that wide, perfect Broadway smile that Melody missed every day. “That’s how we’ll know we’re alive and not just zombies like our parents and a few teachers who shall not be named,” she’d said dramatically.
Melody and Alyssa’s father had led the pack of so-called zombies, ever since their mother died. Principal Blevins was also suspect, barely mustering a smile most days despite Bri’s best attempts to make him crack one.
The charm bracelet had belonged to Jo first. That was where Alyssa had gotten it. Had the piece of jewelry somehow returned to Jo and she’d kept it safe? Jo always had a talent for finding lost things and putting them right back where they belonged. Just like that time she’d found Melody’s favorite doll that she’d lost after their picnic in Sunrise Park. Melody’s mom had given her that doll, and Melody had been distraught, crying herself to sleep night upon night. Then one morning Melody had woken up with the doll in her arms.
“Where did you find it?” Melody had asked Jo as she hurried down to her great-aunt’s sewing room, which was really a room full of old things. Lost things. Found things. Treasures, according to Jo.
“I found it on the Isle of Lost Things,” Jo had said, all wide-eyed and full of dramatic flair, which was Jo’s style. Alyssa had been a lot like her.
The Isle of Lost Things was as real to Melody back then as Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, and the idea that her mother was sitting on a cloud in heaven with angel wings, looking down on her.
Melody didn’t believe in such things anymore. So where had this bracelet been all this time? There were so many unknowns that would probably never find answers now that Jo was gone.
Melody swallowed, her throat the consistency of sandpaper. She thought about flinging the bracelet back into the case, but this wasn’t something to keep on display. It felt private, off-limits. So much so that Melody hadn’t even allowed herself to look on these memories for the last nine years. Yet here they were, threatening to suffocate her. Her next impulse was to walk out of this store, get back inside her car, and drive over the bridge and away from the tiny town of Trove Isle. She’d left all this pain behind once. She could do it again.
Not knowing what else to do with the bracelet, she slid it onto her wrist for safe keeping. As she looked down at it, unshed tears burning her eyes and blurring her vision, the home charm seemed to catch the light. It reflected so brightly that she had to blink. When she did, one of those tears finally fell free.
No. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to be home in Trove Isle. Or to be the owner of a store full of stuff retrieved from the bottom of a dumpster. If the Isle of Lost Things was in fact a real place, she was standing in the middle of it. And maybe that was the reason Jo had brought her here. Maybe she was the most lost thing of all. And if that was the case, she didn’t want to be found.
To: Liz Dawson
From: Bri Johnson
Subject: Deep Thoughts by Bri
Liz,
I’ve been reading a lot of poetry in the prison library lately. Have I mentioned that? I’m not sure why, but reading a poem gives me a sense of accomplishment, you know? I’m not one of those people who finishes books. Even the ones I like. But I can read dozens of poems in one sitting. I have the beginning, the middle, and the end all in a matter of minutes.
I’m in a mood today. My daughter is on the other side of the country for the immediate future, and even though I’m not allowed to see Ally as often as I’d like, I miss her more just knowing she’s so far away. It’s good for her to spend time with her dad in California. She needs that. The old Bri never would have admitted it, but it’s true.
It’s amazing how four years can change a person. Honestly, I know this sounds flippant, but in some ways, prison has been a bit like high school. There are cliques and rules, mean girls and meaner ones, and it feels like you want to scream at these people who seem to be running your life. But you can’t. And, in this analogy, I’m in the last leg of my senior year, which was great in real life—until it wasn’t. So, as I prepare to blow this joint, honestly, I’m a little scared. Okay, I’m freaking out. Because I can see a light at the end of this tunnel, and last time that happened, my whole world got body-slammed against an oak tree.
I know I’ve always been the tough one. At least that’s what I’ve projected to the world around me. You want to know the truth, though? You’re the toughest one of us all. While Melody skipped town and I got hooked on pain meds to deal with all my crap, you stayed. You were clean and sober, and you have been my steadfast friend through it all. So, thanks for that. I owe you.
B
CHAPTERTWO
LIZ
Liz Dawson blew out a breath and tried not to panic. Her younger sister Rose was only a couple of minutes late. Sixteen was too young to have a driver’s license, in Liz’s opinion. Too young to have a car. Why did their parents agree to let Rose have one, especially before deciding to leave the country?
The bell on the bakery’s door chimed. The Bitery closed at six in the evening, but Liz hadn’t locked up because she was waiting for her sister. The story of Liz’s life, starting with when she was twelve years old and her parents had sat her down to tell her they were pregnant. Since that time, Liz had been waiting for Rose in some form or fashion.
“Hey, thought I saw you in here,” Danette Rhodes said. Danette owned The Book Whore next door. She was pushing ninety years old, walked with a cane, and shook like a bobble-head doll when she spoke. “Saw you didn’t park your bicycle out front today. Need a ride, Lizzie?”
Liz smiled as she weighed the risks of that offer. Danette had less business driving on the streets of Trove Isle than Rose did. “No, thank you. My sister is actually supposed to be driving us home today.”Supposed tobeing the key words.
Danette frowned, which only made the deep lines of her face contort and twist like unruly rivers on a desperate search for their ocean. Liz understood that search. Her entire adult life she’d been twisting and curving on her path, looking for something. Her path seemed to be one big loop though, keeping her in the familiar. In safe territory. At least it had felt safe until her parents had dropped everything to spend the summer in Ecuador where Liz’s maternal grandmother, Mami, lived.
Mami had what doctors called a transient ischemic attack. In layman’s terms, a ministroke. That had necessitated her parents leaving the country three weeks ago to visit a place Liz had never known her parents to go. Liz’s grandmother had come to the states in her twenties and she’d had Liz’s mother here in Trove. Liz had grown up with her mom always wishing out loud to return to her mother’s homeland, especially after Mami had moved back, but between family and running her own business, there’d never been time.
