Page 43 of The Lovely Return


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With my backpack filled with new books, I start the two-mile walk home. As long as the weather’s nice, I don’t mind walking. I enjoy the exercise and fresh air to clear my head at the end of the day. And I have toned legs to show for it, so there’s that.

About two blocks into my walk, I spot the new girl on the sidewalk ahead of me.

“Hey!” I call out, jogging to catch up to her.

She pauses and turns around. “Oh, hey,” she says unenthusiastically.

“Are you walking home, too?” I ask breathlessly.

“Yeah.”

“What street do you live on?”

“On Willow Lane.”

“Oh, wow. I live on the next street over. Want to walk together?”

She looks at me like I’m an overly friendly golden retriever.

“I’m not stalking you,” I assure her. “Just trying to be nice. It’s okay if you don’t want to. I won’t be offended.” I’ve never tried to befriend someone first before, but Lily feels like a kindred spirit. Maybe because she looks how I feel—uncomfortably out of place.

“Okay,” she says.

After a few blocks of silence, I ask her why she switched schools.

“I was raised by my grandparents,” she tells me. “And they just got a divorce.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say, not realizing old people got divorced. What’s the point after spending half their lives together? Why not just stick it out?

Her shoulder lifts. “I guess they both wanted a new start and didn’t want to do that with me around.”

“So, who are you living with now?”

“My father. It’s super awkward. I don’t know him at all, but I have nowhere else to go.”

“You never saw him before you moved in with him?”

“Nope. He just sent cards to me for every birthday and holiday for the past sixteen years.”

“That sucks. What about your mom?”

“She died during childbirth.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay. I’m not sad about it. They’re both strangers to me.”

Regardless, a deep, unsettling sadness sinks into the pit of my stomach. Poor Lily is like an orphan, abandoned by everyone. I want to hug her right here on the sidewalk—but I’m pretty sure that would be weird since we just met. I don’t want to scare her away.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I ask her.

“Nope. It’s just me.”

“You’ve had a lot of changes to go through alone.”

“It's no big deal.” Her voice drips with dejection. “I’m used to being alone. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly Miss Popularity like you are.”

I cringe inside. “I’m really not. To be honest, I don’t even have a lot in common with my friends. I love art, nature, and poetry. They love all the fun stuff like popular TV shows, shopping, and boys. Me? I’ve never even been on a date. I consider myself a loner, but for some reason, people gravitate to me and just kinda make me their friend. It’s really weird.”

“That is weird.”

“Now that I said that, I hope you don’t think I’m doing that to you… making you be my friend.”

She lets out a short laugh. “It’s okay…you’ve been really nice to me. I’m just not used to it.”

We come to Willow Lane and I follow her, curious to see which house she lives in. Every step I take is haunted by bittersweet memories. I haven’t been on this street in such a long time, but the ache in my heart is making it feel like it was just yesterday when I ran into the woods, heartbroken and crying.

“Well, this is me,” Lily says, stopping on the cracked sidewalk. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

The little white house nestled in the bushes and trees is like a punch to my gut. It takes me several seconds to wrestle words out of my mouth. “Th-this is where you live?”

“Yup.” She sighs and shuffles her sneakers. “I know…not exactly what I pictured, either.”

“No… it’s beautiful,” I say dreamily. “Like a fairy tale.”

Her brows shoot up with skepticism. “If you say so…”

My soul begins to tremble at the realization that Alex and Cherry have moved, and I will never, ever see them again. I may have only been twelve when Alex stopped being my friend, but I’ve always secretly believed, always heard a whisper in my heart, that it wasn’t the end of our friendship. I think Alex knew that, too.

A lump catches in my throat. They could be anywhere in the world now.

“Do you know when or where the man who lived here before moved?” I ask, staring longingly at the front door. All the special things I loved so much must be gone now—the beautiful black and white photos, the luxurious Victorian red velvet couch, the soft throw blanket with the enchanting little round tassels.

Lily shrugs. “Beats me. I only just moved in last week.”

My attention is pulled away from the house when movement near the barn catches my eye. Tears immediately spring to my eyes and my knees nearly buckle.

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