Free Second Chances by Brenda Chapman Page A

made me lonely. I wanted it to go back to the way it had been between us. I didn’t know how to get there. She saw me watching her and questioned me with her eyes.
    â€œDid you … I mean, how did it go in town?” I asked. Dad raised his head. For a split second, Mom’s eyes flashed alarm, but when she spoke, her voice was even.
    â€œGood. I just ran into the store and out.” She turned to my father and raised her hands waist high, palms spread as she explained. “I wanted to surprise you with the roast.”
    Dad grunted. “I could have picked it up on my way. There wasn’t any need for you to go into town, price of gas what it is.”
    â€œI know, but I wanted to.”
    â€œYou’ve no sense sometimes, woman,” he grumbled, but that seemed to satisfy him. He lowered his head to read. Mom’s eyes dismissed me before she turned her back and started stirring something in a pot on the stove.
    What have I done? I felt like she’d slapped me but this was way worse. I crept away without saying anything more. I closed the door between the shop and our kitchen. It took me a while to cross the shop and sit on the stool behind the counter. I was having trouble getting my feet to move forward, and my stomach had something fluttering around inside trying to get out. What have I done? She wouldn’t even look at me. I told myself it didn’t matter, but I knew it did. Mom and I had always stood together, a unit of two keeping each other safe from my father and his fears and anger. I knew exactly what I had done. I’d betrayed her.
    The front door opened. Four kids coming in to buy popsicles — two banana, a cherry, and a grape. I forgot to hand one boy his change and he banged on the counter until I dropped coins into his hand. They left and I paced around the floor for a while before grabbing a magazine and returning to my stool. I started flipping through it, the same Mad magazine I’d picked up the week before, when I’d first seen Tyler Livingstone. The words were blurry and I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. The bell jingled, and I glanced up.
    Candy Parsens was walking towards me, a big smile on her face, hair tied back with wispy bits hanging loose around her face. Her tight red T-shirt had a dark stain across the right side of her stomach, and her wrinkled white peasant skirt trailed in a crooked line above her bare feet, blackened with a coat of mud. The pupils of her eyes were dilated. Her fluttering hands mesmerized me, darting back and forth in front of her like a couple of baby birds. I straightened up.
    â€œWhere’s Sean?” I asked, worried.
    Candy waved a pale hand toward the front window. “Kid’s home. Just came for some ciggies.” She squinted at me. “Darlene? That is you.” She frowned. “You didn’t come by and I waited all afternoon.”
    â€œI was going to go see you but it was raining. Is Sean home with Johnny?”
    â€œWe could have gone swimming in the rain. Wet’s wet.” Candy laughed, loud and high-pitched. It ended suddenly when she drew in her breath and pointed with a trembling finger to the red du Maurier package of cigarettes behind the counter. Her face got serious. She reminded me of a kid trying to be good. “Come by tomorrow if you can, say after lunch sometime.” She slapped two Crispy Crunches on the counter and spun around to take a large bag of barbecue chips from the shelf. She staggered and grabbed onto the top of the display, crunching bags of chips with her weight. Then she spun back around and waved her hand in the air. “Damn blackflies,” she said. “I can’t get away from them.”
    â€œI don’t see any,” I said.
    â€œWell, are you coming for that swim? We can go right now!”
    â€œI have to watch the store. I’ll try tomorrow,” I said, more to get her to stop talking about it than because I thought