of somewhere to stay.”
“Like a boarding house or a hostel?” These are things I only know about because of books.
“Yes.” She glances at me and I spot a flash of guilt on her face. “I probably should have mentioned it before but I was worried your mother would panic.”
“Panic about what?”
She slips the pencil behind her ear. “When Sierra bought the building, she was following a dream of owning her own coffee shop. The space was ready and she figured she’d just live upstairs alone, but two years ago her younger brother came to stay with her after their mom passed. He’s a tough kid but she’s helped him a lot. His social worker thought so, too and asked if she’d consider housing a few other young men that needed a place to stay.”
My heart thumps in my chest. I’d been over there. I’d been outside in the yard with one of them. A kid with a social worker. She’s right. Mom would freak.
“Starlee, they’re good boys, they just need some help. Like you’ve needed help before. They just don’t have the parents to take care of them.” She reaches for my hand. “All they have is Sierra. She keeps them fed and makes sure they go to school. They also work at the shop and maintain the building.”
I nod, trying to squelch my initial reaction. “That sounds kind of cool.”
“It is.” She smiles. “But—”
“But what?”
“But we promised your mother that I’d keep you…”
“Isolated?”
“Safe.” She sighs. “And the truth is those boys have had their share of trouble. Nothing I’m concerned about, but Star would flip out if she knew about it.”
“Then let’s not tell her,” I say. “And I promise that other than coffee runs, I’ll stay clear of the Wayward Sun.”
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Starlee.”
“I know, but it’s time for me to learn how to live in the world with other people. That doesn’t mean we have to be best friends or even talk, right? I can keep my promise to my mom about her rules even with a house full of boys next door.” I try my hardest to keep my voice from shaking. “It’s not like they’d have much interest in me, anyway.”
Leelee stares at me hard after that statement and she opens her mouth to speak but shuts it just as quickly. “If they bother you in any way, come tell me.”
“I will.”
I head to the back of the office to start my work for the day, thinking about the exchange with Leelee and the boys next door. Apprehension fills me at the thought of breaking my mom’s rules and what she’ll do if she finds out, but I also like how Leelee and I talked it out. We handled it. Made decisions, real decisions based on a conversation, not guilt and manipulation.
I just hope that I don’t regret it.
I’ve never had a job before; my mother didn’t think I was up to it. I never pushed, the idea of talking to customers or remembering orders made me sweat, but the Vine Lodge, like everything else in the small town, is easy and laid back.
I’d heard about hippies growing up. Seen them in movies and even heard first-hand accounts from my mother’s stories of traveling across the country in a van. But this place…the dream is still alive. There is a calm over the town. Nature takes precedence. Simon and Garfunkel wafts from speakers followed by the Grateful Dead and Crosby, Stills, and Nash.
I want to roll my eyes at the sheer typical-ness of it all, the California Hippie, but they’re so earnest, so determined, that I can’t find it in me to bother.
Like every other morning, I rise and change into leggings and a hoodie. It’s cool before the sun comes out. I step outside, feeling the fresh air on my face. I walk over to my trashcan for my morning view, glancing up at the roof like I’ve done every day since arriving. To my surprise someone is up there, a figure wrapped in a blue sweatshirt, hood up over his head. There’s no doubt that he sees me, too. He gives me a slight nod and I now know it’s one of the boys that lives there, maybe the one that helped me the other day at the shop, and my interest is piqued.
The sun makes its daily arrival, cresting over the mountain, casting a bright pink glow over the yard. I feel it on my face, see it on my hands, and I look over and see the boy illuminated also and I recognize him. Not from the shop but from the museum. His blonde hair lights up like a halo—the All-American. On the rooftop next to him is a book.
“Beautiful, huh?” he says, not in greeting but wanting my attention. Attention I’m not supposed to want or seek. Especially from that kind of boy.
I don’t say a word, instead turning and dropping out of sight.
I’d made a promise to my mother and my grandmother and I planned to keep it.
6
Each day this town feels a little more like my own. At first, I felt awkward fumbling around the desk, checking in visitors from all over the world, but really it was pretty easy. Check the registration, give them their key and welcome sheet. Explain the few rules.