Chapter 8
Journal
No one believes me when I talk about him.
It’s sad.
Jenna gets to share all her stories about the friends she makes, the friendship bracelets she’s gotten, but when I mention Gale. Everyone… well—
—laughs.
Uncle Orson tells me I’ve got a good imagination at least. He said if he hadn’t grown up with a brother, maybe he’d have an imaginary friend too. I told Uncle Orson that I didn’t want Gale to be pretend because that meant one day, he’d go away.
Uncle Orson said real people go away too.
Then he looked sad.
He always looks sad, even when he’s smiling. He was angrier in the car on the way to Florida this year, but he dropped Jenna and me off at camp all the same.
As soon as I could, I raced to my secret place by the old rocks and reeds. Gale was waiting, hands outstretched for a hug.
But mostly cheeseballs.
This boy is really eating through my stash, but I don’t mind. It’s nice to have someone to share with.
“Look!” he says, pulling a clamshell out of the water. “You think there’s anything inside?” Gale knows so much about everything in the swamp—it’s fascinating, but makes sense. He does live here.
“Maybe a clam,” I answer, tilting my head, and he laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world.
He’s so silly.
I’m not that funny. But I like the way he smiles at me.
“Well, yeah! But there could be a pearl too,” my very real friend says, his fins puffed up with laughter. Skillfully, he uses a claw to open it; they’re long and sharp, but not scary. They’re good for opening lids or cutting things like flower stems and reeds to craft with.
What I didn’t expect is for him to EAT the slimy thing inside, slurping it up in one gulp. After, he just stares at me, his face flushed with a deeper shade of green.
“Did you want some?”
“No, but I kind of wanted to see a pearl.” I pout before fixing my expression. But when Gale looks back at me, his eyes get soft and glossy. Maybe he’s the one person I can look sad around without it being a problem.
I let my face fall and wait to see what happens next.
Gale reaches out his hand.
“We got ’til sunset, right?” He asks, then takes me to all the places he knows clams hide on the shore, careful not to wander too far from my cabin. We don’t find one, but I don’t mind.
The longer we look, the more time we get to spend together.