The Miles Between - Page 29

“Or maybe out-of-the-ordinary things just do happen, Aidan,” I say.

“No cocktails,” Seth says, between bites. “The tour guide said it was only a strange coincidence.”

Mira takes the last bite of her hot dog and washes it down with a long sip of soda. “One time when I was little, I was playing hopscotch with friends and I threw my marker and the way the chain fell it looked just like my initials. MP—Mira Peach—as neat and plain as day. Would you call that a coincidence? Amazing at least!”

I roll my eyes. Only Mira would compare dying to a child’s game. Seth and Aidan chime in with their varied opinions, and I listen to them haggle back and forth and I think that perhaps the most amazing thing of all is that I am sitting on a street corner, eating hot dogs and refusing to allow myself to think of what this day promises, for one day being someone different and trying to control a day that has always controlled me. Turning tables.

Seth’s arm rubs up against mine in a deliberate nudge. “What do you think?”

I think his arm is getting a bit too familiar with my arm. I think I have forgotten the dangers of getting too close to others. I think I am taking in every inch of his bare arm and rolled-up sleeve. I think if he nudges me one more time, Mira will begin making faces that might make me do something regrettable to her. “I think I need to walk.”

22

THE STREETS OF LANGDON are busy. The true lunch hour has brought more cars onto the streets and more people passing on the sidewalks. We have had to explain our lambadoodle three times to various admirers. I even give the name and number of our lambadoodle breeder to one insistent and fairly annoying woman.

“Whose number is that really?” Mira asks after the woman leaves.

“Headmaster Cox,” I tell her.

“The Rule Nazi of Hedgebrook?” Seth says.

“How’d you get his number?” Aidan asks, his voice two octaves higher than normal.

“Numbers are my specialty, remember?”

Seth’s smile is sinister. “He didn’t even listen to my side when Bingham sent me to his office. I hope that lady calls early and often.”

We laugh and Seth pats Lucky’s head. I think he is forgetting that Lucky is not really a dog. We pass an old-fashioned open-air butcher shop in the older part of Langdon. Various meats fill trays in the glass case, and whole animal carcasses hang from hooks.

“Eww.” Mira’s wrinkled nose and commentary speak for us all. The mystery meat at Hedgebrook suddenly has its advantages. Seth spots the skinned-pink lamb carcasses at the same time I do. He picks Lucky up and tucks him under his arm.

“Don’t look, boy,” he says.

We pick up our pace. One lamb saved. For that alone the day has served us well.

We talk as we walk about what we should do once we have found shoes. Again, Aidan proposes a movie, but he is voted down. Mira suggests an amusement park and then asks me if there is one in Langdon. “I don’t think so, Mira.” Seth says he is fine with walking and taking it as it comes. I contemplate what the it might be. Besides four missing students at Hedgebrook, there is someone out there who is also missing a car. I hope the it does not turn out to be a whole police force hunting us down. I am not worried for myself. Mr. Gardian will take care of it as he always has, and I will find myself off to yet another boarding school, because no matter the infraction, Mother and Father will not be bothered to interrupt their travel plans. Especially not on Mother’s birthday. A few phone calls and some fat checks solve problems most agreeably for them. Money is no object, while I am.

“I like Seth’s idea,” Mira says. “Look at the good things that have already happened when we weren’t even trying. The four of us together, games and secrets, finding Lucky, Aidan talking to the president, these great clothes, lunch out of our laps. . . . All we need are new shoes and the day will be perfect!”

“You’re easy to please, ma’am,” Aidan says in his cowboy accent.

I am saved from having to endure any more googly eyes

by a sign with perfect timing: RUPERT’S QUALITY SHOES.

I am not one to worry about fashion. Every school I have ever attended had uniforms for day and strict attire codes for free time. Fashion choice was a freedom I was happy to surrender. Fading into a sea of navy, maroon, and white made everything about who I was easier. But ever since I found this ridiculously fussy black skirt, I have been eager to rid myself of these clunky brown oxfords. Anything small and black and light will be a welcome change.

Seth reaches for the door at the same time as I do and our hands touch. I quickly pull mine away.

“After you,” he says.

We pile through the door to find a busy store. Several other customers browse the displays or are trying on shoes. Three bustling clerks disappear in and out of back rooms with stacks of shoe boxes. Mira and I walk to one side, and Aidan and Seth to the other, where the men’s shoes are displayed.

“Wow! We hit the jackpot!” Mira proclaims. There are hundreds of shoes to choose from.

Mira and I wander the aisles picking up boots, sandals, and everything in between, turning them over to check the prices.

“Too much?” Mira asks.

Tags: Mary E. Pearson
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