I stared up at my old blue ceiling, which the carpenter bees believed was the sky. It seemed
wrong after everything that had happened. Part of me wanted to take a can of black spray paint and cover up all that blue. Then the carpenter bees would see my ceiling for what it was. But I knew I’d never do it. Not because it was the same blue ceiling I’d stared at my whole life, or because my mother had painted it herself.
I didn’t want things to change for those bees.
There was no chance of blue skies anytime soon. Gatlin County could expect bad weather as long as Lena was writing black valentines. So could I. But it didn’t matter. Lena was still the first girl I had ever loved, and she would probably be the last. And at sixteen, that was something too frightening to admit, even to myself—even when I knew it was true.
What was true?
Lena spoke up from the depths of my mind, as close as anyone could be—and about as far away. Kelting in our secret unspoken language, like always. I smiled to myself, or maybe to her. It was hard to tell anymore.
Nothing. I liked my card.
Yeah? It was supposed to be a love poem, but…
Her voice drifted off. She didn’t have to say it. How could she let herself feel love when all she felt was pain? How could we be happy to be together when she had lost the other person she was closest to in the world?
I know what it was, L. I have something for you, too.
You do?
I pulled the lid off the shoe box. The bear looked up at me with beady, vacant eyes. BE MINE.
I’m on my way.
Some hearts are red,
some hearts are blue.
How can some crappy Valentine say how I feel about you?
Amma’s Buttermilk Pie
Ingredients
1½ cups granulated sugar
1 tablespoon flour
4 eggs
¼ pound (1 stick) butter, melted
1 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 unbaked 9-inch piecrust (prepared or homemade)*
Whipped cream and strawberries for garnish (optional)
*In Amma’s kitchen, the crust is homemade.
Directions
1. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F.
2. In a mixing bowl, stir together the sugar and flour.