Free As Simple as It Seems by Sarah Weeks Page B

It’s my boat, remember? You think I’m just going to walk away and let you have all the fun of fixing it up? I’ll bring some rope—that way we can tie the boat to a tree and it won’t float away.”
    Pooch was looking at me funny; his eyes narrowed to slits and his head tilted to the side.
    â€œYou’re not lying, are you?” he said.
    The sun, which had momentarily slipped behind a cloud, reemerged, spilling its yolky glow over us.
    â€œLying about what?” I said.
    â€œAbout coming back tomorrow.”
    I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I knew it wasn’t nice of me to be leading Pooch on, but if he figured outI’d been lying to him, he might get mad, and then he wouldn’t want to help with the boat.
    â€œYou worry too much,” I told him. “I said I was coming back, didn’t I?”
    â€œHonest?” said Pooch.
    His round little face was so full of hope, it almost hurt to look at it.
    â€œHonest,” I told him. “I’ll meet you back here at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Now cover your eyes and count to a hundred. Don’t try to follow me and don’t tell anyone you saw me down here either. Not even your mom.”
    Pooch drew an X over his heart with his finger. Then he covered his eyes, and I left him counting by the lake.

CHAPTER TWELVE
Round and Round
    â€œIf you don’t believe in heaven while you’re alive, but then when you die you find out it’s actually a real place, can you still go there?”
    I was sitting at the kitchen table, finishing up my breakfast. My mother was standing at the sink, stringing beans.
    â€œWhere in the world did that question come from?” she asked.
    â€œNowhere,” I said. “I was just wondering. Is that where Grandpa Colty is? Heaven?”
    My mother looked at me.
    â€œYour grandpa Colty was a very good man. If there is a heaven, I’m sure that’s where he is.”
    â€œWhere else could he be?” I asked.
    â€œDifferent people believe different things,” she said, turning her attention back to the beans.
    â€œWhat do you believe?” I asked.
    â€œWell, if I had to put it into words, I guess I’d say that I believe life is like a big circle,” she said. “Each ending marks a new beginning.”
    â€œSome people believe that your soul leaves your body the last time you breathe out,” I said, remembering what Pooch had told me.
    My mother set down her knife.
    â€œIt’s a beautiful day outside; we don’t need to be talking about last breaths, do we?”
    I shrugged and took a bite of my pink eggs.
    Pink eggs had been a favorite of mine when I was little. You make them by frying an egg and then at the last minute putting a drop of water in the pan and covering it up to steam the yolk until it turns pink. I hadn’t had them in years, but my mother had made them for me that morning without asking.
    â€œI just thought it was interesting, that’s all,” I said.
    My mother’s face suddenly brightened.
    â€œSpeaking of interesting, I have some interesting news,” she said. “Guess what—we have a new neighbor. Someone has rented the Allen house.”
    I almost choked, but I took a swallow of milk to cover it. I wasn’t in the habit of lying to my mother, but I didn’t want her to know that I already knew about thenew neighbors. It would only lead to questions. She’d noticed my torn nightgown, of course, but she’d been satisfied with the explanation I’d given her about going for a long walk with Jack the day before and having caught it on some blackberry brambles.
    â€œIt’s a woman and her little boy,” my mother went on. “Francine told me about them this morning when I went down to get the mail.”
    â€œOh,” I said, trying to keep my voice even as I peeled a piece of crust off my bread and laid it along the edge of the plate. “What