Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mom didn’t say anything when I came back with oversized slippers on my feet.
But I could tell she wanted to as I took them off by the door.
Which was why I ate my cereal quickly and escaped to my room.
I didn’t want to listen to her twist this last interaction with Sam to fit her fears.
However, my room didn’t feel like a refuge, and the book on my bed didn’t offer the escape I wanted.
For the first time ever, I didn’t want to be at home. I wanted to be out doing something. No, not just something—I wanted to be at the pumpkin farm with Sam.
Angry with the situation, I grabbed some clean clothes and went to shower.
While I shampooed, I worked on shifting my perspective.
Mom only said I couldn’t spend time alone with Sam, not that I couldn’t do anything with him.
That meant more days like yesterday, which was great.
I’d loved yesterday. Did it suck saying no today?
Sure. But only because I was worried he’d stop asking.
Which was silly. He’d already said he liked hanging out with me and that, if not for me, he’d be friendless.
So maybe I needed to invite him somewhere next to show I felt the same way. Where, though?
As I dressed in my room, I considered options.
We didn’t have much within walking distance.
The entertainment center on the other side of town offered bowling, mini golf, and pool tables.
They also hosted league events for bags and darts.
I’d never been interested in any of that before because it would have dipped into my fun funds. But maybe—
The knock on my door startled me out of my thoughts.
Mom poked her head in to look at me, her expression neutral.
“He’s here.”
“What?” I hurried past her.
Through the living room window, I saw him hefting two large pumpkins out of his truck while also carrying a plastic bag.
This time, I opened the door before he reached it.
He smiled at me. “One for your house and one for mine. This way, we won’t be the only two on the block without them. And if you have any pointers for what to carve, let me know. I’ve never done one of these before.”
He’d bought a pumpkin for me?
His smile started to fade a little as I stared at the giant orange spheres in his arms.
“You don’t have to take one. I just thought—”
“Yes. The left one. Please. And thank you. I haven’t carved a pumpkin in years.”
The surge of relief and happiness I felt matched his brilliant smile.
Then, I took the biggest gamble of my life.
“Could you put it on the table for me?” I stepped back and indicated he should come in.
He nodded and carried everything to the table.
I didn’t look at Mom. She’d said she wouldn’t stop me from spending time with him, but I knew she hadn’t meant “invite him over” when she’d said that.
Still, having him here was a perfect solution.
And maybe spending some time around him would help calm Mom down.
Or she might go off the deep end and start talking about werewolves in front of him.
If she did, it would guarantee two things: I’d lose a friend, and I’d be on a bus to Grandma’s this Friday.
“If you don’t have anything else going on today, you can carve your pumpkin here,” I said as he set mine down.
He paused, glanced at me, then at Mom over my shoulder.
“Are you sure?” he asked me.
“Absolutely. You bought the pumpkins. The least I can do is teach you how to carve yours. There’s a lot of technique to it.”
He glanced at Mom again. I gave in and looked at her. She wasn’t standing and watching us as I thought, but sitting on the couch, pretending to be focused on her reader.
“Mom, is it okay if Sam and I carve our pumpkins here?”
She looked up. “Sure.”
That was it. One word, neutrally delivered. It felt like a dare—one I was willing to take.
Turning, I smiled at Sam.
“I’ll get some newspaper to put down so there’s less for us to clean up later.”
He set his pumpkin on the table and watched me hustle to get set up. Newspaper. Knives. Scraper. Bowls. A damp towel for each of us.
Once we were both working at the table, I forgot about Mom and the worry of what she might say, and simply enjoyed spending time with him.
The pumpkins he’d picked were filled with seeds perfect for baking.
Working together, we had the guts and seeds sorted in no time.
While they baked, we diligently followed the tutorials for our chosen images.
We’d both chosen complex designs that would look incredible when backlit, thanks to the different depths of carving.
The timer went off for the seeds, and I reached for the damp towel since my hands were slimmed with pumpkin juice.
“I’ll get them,” Mom said, standing.
It was the first time she’d spoken since her “sure” earlier.
Reminded of her presence, I felt just a hint of nervousness before a sense of calm acceptance washed over me. Whether she approved of Sam or not was her choice. I was free to make my own.
“Clarity mentioned you’ve already graduated,” Mom said as she removed the first pan. “Have you decided if you’re continuing your education or finding work?”
“I graduated a few years ago and decided to work.”
“Oh? What do you do?”
“Environmental analysis.”
“And that doesn’t require a higher education?”
He smiled. “It does. I inherited my Dad’s curiosity and was taking extra classes as part of my homeschool curriculum.”
“What do your parents do then?”
He repeated what he’d already told me, then added, “My mom originally went to school for massage therapy. She wanted to help people. She switched her majors before she graduated, though, after she met my dad and realized there was a better way to help.”
“How is she helping people?” Mom asked.
“The analysis she does determines private relief funding. She likes the work and knowing it’s making a difference in the lives of people who are struggling.”
“Is that why you came to Wisconsin? For your Mom’s work?”
“No. My dad had a job out this way, and my mom thought I’d like it here.”
“Just you? Why?”
Her questions were getting too intrusive.
“Hey, Mom, could you stir those and put them back in for five more minutes?” I asked. “I like it when they have a good crunch.”
She took the hint and focused on the seeds.
Sam still answered, though. “My parents are going to be traveling more for their work and didn’t want me staying behind back home.
” A small grin tugged at his mouth. “Dad said I’d run wild long enough and suggested Mom look for somewhere interesting for me.
She saw potential here. I see it too. It’s a lot like back home. Pretty. Quiet. Grounding.”
“They bought a house just for you?”
“Technically, I bought a house just for me. But they helped me find it.”
Internally cringing, I waited for Mom’s reaction. It was a lot calmer than I thought it would be.
“You're doing better than most adults twice your age, then. The seeds are done, Clarity. They don’t count as lunch.”
I watched her return to the couch, feeling a little surprised. That was it?
Sam nudged me when he caught me staring at her, and I focused on my pumpkin. A few minutes later, my stomach started to growl.
“I bought these, if you’re hungry,” he said, opening the bag he’d carried in.
Inside were three caramel apples. One was coated in peanuts, another in mini chocolate candies, and the third in pretzel crumbles.
“Would you like one, Ms. Carstein?” he asked while I was still mentally drooling.
“No, thank you.”
The polite answer ripped my gaze from the treats. She was watching me again. Another dare or a test? It was hard to tell with her these last few days.
“If we cut them up and share, we can try them all,” I said to Sam, “But let’s make lunch first.” I didn’t think Mom would mind sharing our food since he was willing to share his.
I kept it simple. Chicken garden wraps, heavy on the garden, with homemade tortilla shells.
Sam washed the vegetables while I made the shells.
We worked together well. He knew what to do without me asking, slicing the chicken and letting the shells cool.
It didn’t take long before I was carrying a plate to Mom.
She looked up from her reader, her expression more closed than I was used to.
“Thank you.”
Was this still because I’d said I’d move if I had to, or was something else going on?
“You’re welcome.” I handed her the plate, which included a slice of each kind of apple. “Life’s too short not to enjoy an occasional sweet treat. Plus, apples are healthy.”
She smiled a little, nodded, and accepted the plate.
It took Sam and me another hour to finish our pumpkins and clean up the mess.
He carried mine out to our front porch.
“Put it on the left side,” I said. “I don’t want Mom to trip on it when she’s bringing in groceries.” He immediately moved it.
“Do you want to look at it from the road?” he asked, standing back to take it in. “We might need to turn it a little.”
I was jogging across the lawn a second later, grinning like an idiot because he got it.
Mom never did. Decorative pumpkins were just a waste of money.
I understood her point of view. Truly. But I loved that someone understood mine.
Sometimes it was okay to do something useless just because it made someone happy.
Turning at the sidewalk, I studied the pumpkin.
“Yep, it needs to move three inches to the left, then turn a few degrees to the right.”
He made the adjustments and stood back. I gave him a nod of approval and started toward the house while staring at my masterpiece.
I felt an odd rush of adoration. I mean, the pumpkin was pretty epic, but—
“Any chance you’re interested in going to a haunted house on Friday?” Sam asked. “I want to go, but not alone. It’s more fun with other people.”
The grass reached up and grabbed my toe.
I swear that was what happened.
One second, I was a normal human; the next, I was doing my best impression of a flying squirrel about to land.
Time slowed.