Free Bliss by Kathryn Littlewood Page B

the classroom where Miss Thistle taught her Magic of Science class at summer day camp.
    â€œWhere the heck is Mr. Bastable?” Ty spat. “We’ve been waiting an hour. They should be over at his place by now, slow-dancing in the middle of a frog tank.”
    In Rose’s head, Mr. Bastable would arrive and stand outside the window of Miss Thistle’s classroom, wearing a handsome black pinstripe suit and a fashionable haircut. He would knock on the window and say, “Miss Felidia Thistle, I have loved you from the moment I saw you!” Her face would light up and her eyes would gleam with unshed tears of joy. She would climb through the window and walk off with him, arm in arm, leaving the first graders sitting with their jaws open.
    The whole scene was very similar to what Rose wished would happen between her and Devin Stetson, if she ever found herself teaching science at a summer camp.
    But Mr. Bastable was nowhere to be found.
    Rose sighed. “I guess it was ’cause we messed up the measurements.” She felt like ripping out her hair, or crying. Or both. “But now that we know what all the measurements mean, we can get it right next time,” she ventured, hoping there would be a next time.
    â€œEch, I don’t know,” Ty mumbled. “This seems like a waste of time. I just really wanted to show Aunt Lily that I—we—can do magic.” Ty stood up again. “And if we can’t, then I have more important things to do. Like video games. Or sleep. Get Sage to help you.” He brushed the dirt and leaves off the front of his shirt and walked off.
    Rose walked home behind him, sighing in defeat.
    That night, Rose sat in the booth with an exhausted and filthy but happy Leigh on her lap.
    Aunt Lily sat next to Rose and patted Leigh’s head. “I was so worried about you!” she said.
    Aunt Lily had prepared pizza for dinner—a beautiful expanse of thin, sweet dough, wonderful tomato sauce, and fresh mozzarella cheese and olives. Chip had opted to return home, exhausted from a day of manning the front room by himself.
    Mrs. Carlson waved a finger in Leigh’s face. “I’d have found her,” she said firmly. “I used to be a spy.”
    Lily announced that she had to go to the bathroom and disappeared into her guest room in the basement, which was equipped with a tiny sink, shower, and toilet.
    The phone rang, and Rose hopped up to answer it. It was her mother.
    â€œDarling!” Purdy cooed.
    Rose’s pulse quickened. She wanted so badly to confess that she had been in the storeroom and cellar and had copied the recipes and played with magic and tried to get Mr. Bastable and Miss Thistle together. Most of all, she wanted to tell her mother about Aunt Lily’s arrival, to ask if Lily was telling the truth about being part of the family, to ask if she was fishy.
    But she realized she shouldn’t. She could get all of them into trouble—and really, all Lily had done was help out and mind the shop while her parents were away. Was that so bad?
    Still, she should say something to her parents, right?
    Rose opened her mouth, but as soon as the name Aunt Lily popped into her mind, her tongue went limp, as if her mouth couldn’t actually form the sentence. Then, before she knew it, the thought disappeared from her head altogether.
    â€œHoney?” Purdy called through the speaker. “Rose? Are you all right?”
    â€œI meant to say something about something, but it flew out of my head. Just tired, I guess.” Rose ended the conversation and hung up the phone.
    Sage gnawed on his pizza crust like an animal. “Rose, speechless? That’s a first!”
    Lily reappeared and sat down in the booth. Leigh climbed into her lap, and Lily laughed. Rose watched as Aunt Lily joked with Leigh and her brothers, saw the way their eyes lit up whenever she tossed her head back and flashed a smile. It was difficult to