Free Summerlost by Ally Condie Page A

therapy. All the going to restaurants during the not-busy hours so that he wouldn’t freak out in a crowd. All the humoring him when he wanted to wear his Halloween costume for months at a time. We listened to him say the same things over and over when he got stressed out. We glared at strangers when they gave Ben dirty looks. It was hard sometimes but we all did it, for years.
    It’s not only the hard stuff I remember about Ben. Iremember his ruffly hair, how he screamed but sometimes laughed. I remember his eyes wild and also very, very deep. I remember him when he was a baby and a toddler and he was cute and funny and none of us, including Ben, had any idea how things were going to turn out. And how he started to talk more again that last year and liked me to hold his hand when we watched scary parts in movies. He’d let go right when the scary part was over but when it was happening he held on
tight.
    I loved him. I finally loved him again, and then he was gone.

11.
    When I went downstairs to the costume shop before work, Meg wasn’t at the table where she’d been before.
    â€œShe’s in the back,” said a woman who was ironing a long piece of fabric. “I’ll go get her.”
    The one working at the computer didn’t turn around.
    The room was hot. They had a fan on, and every time it rotated past me it made the garbage bag I’d used to protect the special costume crinkle and strands of my hair blow into my eyes.
    Meg brought my costume out on a hanger. “It’s good to go,” she said, and I handed her the other dress back. The fan blew her bangs to one side. The safety pins she had stuck to the top of her apron glittered like a necklace. She had a serious face with lines around her mouth that looked like she frowned a lot but also lines around her eyes that made it seem like she laughed a lot too.
    Talk, Cedar
, I told myself. But it was hard.
    Did I honestly want to do this? Try to find out more about tunnels and Lisette? Did I really think a ghost was leavingthings on my windowsill? Did I want to spend my time in a costume shop where I didn’t know anyone?
    â€œI came in early because I thought maybe I could volunteer after all,” I said.
    â€œPerfect,” Meg said. “We can use you to take over relabeling the boxes for now. That will free Emily up for other things I need her to do.”
    â€œHallelujah,” said the person at the computer. Emily.
    â€œOkay,” I said.

12.
    And so that’s how I ended up typing a list that had things on it like this:
    APRONS: WHITE AND OFF-WHITE
    ASSES HEADS: ALL TYPES
    BUM ROLLS: NO FARTHINGALES, BUSTLE PADS, OR RUFFLES
    CROWNS: GOOD MEDIEVAL CROWNS
    CROWNS: PLAIN MEDIEVAL CROWNS
    FARTHINGALES
    HATS: STRAW
    HATS: BICORN
    HATS: TRICORN
    HORNS
    MIDSUMMER ACCESSORIES
    STOMACHERS
    CODPIECES: SMALL
    CODPIECES: LARGE
    I couldn’t help it. When I got to “codpieces,” I snickered.
    â€œIs something funny?” Meg asked. I glanced at her. Her face was serious but her voice sounded dry, like she knew exactly why I was laughing.
    â€œUm,” I said. “I’ve finished typing the list.”
    â€œGood,” Meg said. “Print them out, one label to each page. Then take them to that row of boxes and replace the old labels with the new ones.”
    And so I did.
    I took the old labels off.
    I taped the new labels on.
    I laughed to myself when I got to CODPIECES .
    And then it was time to go.

13.
    â€œSo you didn’t get to ask Meg about the tunnels,” Leo said after work. We walked through the Portrait Hall on our way out and stopped in front of a painting of an old man with wiry white hair and a dull gold crown. The man held up his hands in front of him, making a dramatic gesture, and his blue veins seemed to course with blood. RICHARD SNOW AS KING LEAR
,
the plaque under the painting said.
    Whoever had painted this portrait had done a good job. I looked at the