My plus one is the pie.
Sophie
Sad.
Emma
It’s not sad. Pie is a great plus one, Sadie.
Buteven Iknow it’s not, and now I must make sure I get to the store before work to get the ingredients and then use my lunch break to make a pie.
Sadie
See you tonight!
Nine hours later with the chocolate cookie-dough pie carefully strapped into the passenger seat of my Volkswagen, I’m heading to Firefly Farms with a crate of spoiled fruits and veggies in the back.
The dirt from the road cradles around me, summer draining all the moisture from the ground. I drive carefully, watching for every pothole or large rock that might cause my car to swerve or shake.
It’s only five miles outside of Dusty Hollow, and yet it feels like forever when you drive ten miles below the speed limit.
I turn into the gravel drive, the large white sign with Firefly Farms hand-painted with fireflies and flowers surrounding the name. Underneath, it readsWhere community matters.
I’ve been delivering almost-rotten food from Waters Grocery & Feed since high school. When I moved back seven years ago, I told Mr. Waters I was more than happy to make the weekly trek every Friday. I welcomed the short drive outside of town, feelinglike the potential for freedom was under the pedal. Not that I’ve ever driven past Firefly Farms. I’ve just thought about it.
I pull up beside the small bright-red barn that serves as the office. Sunflowers grow tall, framing the building, and chickens peck at the ground as they wander about freely. I watch them, the erratic rhythm of their movements somehow lulling me into a state of haziness.
Courtney opens the metal door and it slams shut immediately behind her, causing me to startle and blink. Her red hair is threaded into two braids, and she’s wearing aFirefly Farmsball cap and T-shirt, her standard apparel.
I fix a polite smile on my face and wave back before opening my door. “Hey, Court!”
“Got this week’s spoils?” she asks.
I nod as I use the lever to fold my seat flat so I can retrieve the crate, lifting it out like it’s a prized possession.
“Oh! There’re blueberries! That’s Billy Bob’s favorite,” she squeals happily.
“Billy Bob?”
“One of the pigs,” she answers.
I quirk a brow. “They have favorites?”
Courtney chuckles, her eyes glittering. “Of course they have favorites. Billy Bob isn’t fond of trying new things, either. I keep trying to tell him that new things aren’t so bad.”
I tilt my head. “Does he listen?”
She shakes her head. “Usually not. He’s a bit stubborn, or maybe just stuck in his ways. But he’s missing out!”
I shrug. “I guess so.”
“Thanks, Sadie. See you next week?”
“Of course.”
She smiles, then heads off to the pigpen with the crate. I start to sit back into the driver’s seat when something pokes me from behind. I glance back at the seat, but nothing is there. I try to sit again and realize that something’s in the pocket of my jeans. I pull it out, unfolding it.
Try Something You’ve Never Done
