Free Broken Hearts, Fences and Other Things to Mend by Katie Finn

at home in sweatpants— sometimes took. And as
    I took the Jitney, the Hamptons- bound bus (wearing an annoy-
    ingly visible MINOR sticker on my sweater that meant I had to sit
    up front behind the driver the whole way), I decided I would pre-
    tend that my dad and I were on vacation together, just the two of
    us. And I had a plan that I’d worked out as we drove across Long
    Island— I would use the next two months to subtly remind my
    dad about how great my mom was and how much fun we had as a
    family. And by the end of the summer, I knew, they’d both miss
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    each other and realize they were being stupid, and would get back
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    together. And we’d never even talk about the separation again,
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    except in passing sometimes, remarking on how silly the whole
    thing had been.
    We’d gotten settled in at Bruce’s house, and had been in the
    Hamptons a few days, when my dad and I went out to dinner with
    his co- teacher—she was also a writer, whose debut novel had just
    been published— and her kids.
    The timing was perfect, since I was starting to get a little bored
    hanging out by myself all day. My dad had thought Bruce’s kids
    were going to be around for me to spend time with, but they were
    in Hawaii with their mother for the whole summer. So I was
    thrilled when we arrived at our table at the beachside fi sh res-
    taurant, The Crabby Lobster, and my dad introduced me to Karen
    Bridges, and her kids, Josh and Hallie.
    Josh left a few days after that for some intensive sports camp,
    and then it was just me and Hallie. Since both our respective par-
    ents were working all day, the two of us were thrown together a
    lot. And I found, after we’d spent a few afternoons at the beach,
    getting sunburned and prowling for snacks, that I really liked
    her. She was fun, always up for anything, and had a sly sense of
    humor that she used to great effect, usually to make fun of grown-
    ups to their faces and get away with it. She never insisted on
    having her own way, and was even willing to share my sausage-
    pepperoni- pineapple pizza. And unlike Sophie, who could some-
    times be overly bossy, insisting on getting her own way, Hallie
    was more laid- back, happy to roll with things.
    We spent most of our time at the beach or riding bikes around
    downtown together, eating more ice cream than either of our
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    parents would have been happy with. I told her my secrets— my
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    longstanding crush on Ford, the boys at school who I liked who
    didn’t know I existed, and the ones who did know I existed, but
    who were always the wrong ones. She confi ded in me in return,
    telling me about her huge crush on Cooper Sullivan, the kid who
    lived two doors down from the tiny house the Bridges were rent-
    ing for the summer. She told me that she was hoping he’d be her
    fi rst kiss. Because my dad had told me, I knew that Hallie and
    Josh’s father had died when they were both younger, but Hallie
    didn’t seem to want to talk about it, so I didn’t bring it up much.
    I was thrilled that our parents were getting along, since it meant
    that Hallie and I got to hang out more and more. Soon, it just
    became normal that my dad and I had dinner most nights with
    Karen and Hallie, the two of us leaving to watch a movie or play a
    board game as soon as our parents started getting into one of
    their epic talks about literature, which could go on for hours.
    Whenever I think about that June when we became fast friends,
    everything seems to be golden and sun- drenched, kind of per-
    fect, the way it only can be when you know a storm is looming on
    the horizon.
    Everything came crashing down on the last day of June. Hallie
    and I were at the beach; our parents were teaching, and we’d al-
    ready decided to bike downtown and get