As Stevie walked into her cabin later, Janelle was wrapping up a call with Vi. Stevie could see their short silver hair on the screen, and their pink-tinted round glasses. Whatever lovey-dovey talk they were engaged in cut off quickly. Stevie said hello, then went over and flopped on her bed. It was not a particularly forgiving sort of bed, and the springs squeaked in protest. There was a pungent chemical smell in the air, and
the message on the wall was gone.
“You got it off the wall,” she said as Janelle finished the call.
“Yeah, I used some denatured alcohol to soften it, then I scraped it off.”
“Denatured alcohol?”
“They use it for camping stoves, so there was some around. The smell will go away soon.”
“I don’t know if I want it to,” Stevie replied. “That’s probably the only thing I’ll solve all summer.”
She waited for Janelle to jump in and say no, of course not. Janelle was always encouraging, but she was also realistic. Her silence confirmed Stevie’s worries.
However, there was something that changed her mood immediately. A text from David popped up on her phone:
Got off work a day early. See you tomorrow.
16
STEVIE WOKE UP IN A BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL MOOD THAT BEFITTED Barlow Corners. Today, David would be here. Today, she had something she could give to a family member of one of the Box in the Woods victims. Today the kids were coming, and that seemed wonderful too.
Again, Stevie set out in the morning on a bike. The route to town was easy enough, with only two turns to make. Still, most of the country roads had no bike lanes, no sidewalks—you were supposed to ride along the edge of the street and trust. She wobbled at times and pumped the brakes anxiously, never really sure if she was about to skid off the side of the road or into traffic. No one else seemed to be having these problems. People on racing bikes whizzed around her, utterly sure of their command of the road.
When she arrived in the town center about half an hour later, she was a shattered husk of her former self, but she had grown in her own personal estimation. She rolled the bike up the sidewalk for the last few blocks of the journey and chained it in front of the library.
The library air was shockingly cool on skin that was slick with sweat. Allison was in the new reading room, organizing some picture books. She had on a cheerful yellow shirtdress with a matching necklace made of big yellow beads. Janelle would have appreciated the lemony color and the precision.
“Hey,” Stevie said quietly.
Allison turned.
“I have something for you,” Stevie said, reaching into her backpack and producing the typed paper of art supplies. “We found it when we were organizing the art pavilion. It was in a big box of junk, but . . . I know you like to have anything Sabrina made or wrote, so . . .”
Allison stared at the paper, then looked up at her, a strange expression on her face.
“The art pavilion?” she said.
“Yeah. We were cleaning it. Well, Janelle was, and she found this, and I thought . . .”
Allison turned her gaze back to the paper. Stevie couldn’t make out what she was thinking, but there was a lot of movement behind her eyes. Stevie was not great with intense emotions and felt the pull of the exit on her heels.
“I should get going,” she said.
“Yes . . . ,” Allison said distractedly. “Yes.”
Stevie was halfway to the library door when Allison hurried up to her and took her gently by the arm.
“Thank you,” she said. “That was . . . it was kind. Thank you so much.”
“It’s no problem,” Stevie said. Because really, it wasn’t.