“It’s like... you know how you can tell your dad anything?”
Bean nodded.
“And you know he won’t tell anyone? He’ll keep any secret you ask him to.”
“He will,” Bean said eagerly. “Like, I told him that Diego likes Molly, and Diego told me not to tell anyone, but I told Dad, and he hasn’t told a single person.” Bean’s eyes were starry, as though he were completely amazed by his father’s feat of secret-keeping. Meanwhile, she was apparently now the second person Bean had told Diego’s secret to.
“That’s exactly what I mean. I don’t really have anyone to tell secrets to.”
Bean seemed to take this in, stirring the batter. “You can tell me secrets.”
Given the news on Diego, she didn’t know if that was wise. She smiled. “Thanks, Bean.”
He turned to the task at hand. “And I’ll be your friend if you want.”
Her smile got bigger. She could feel it crackle all the way to her toes and spark in her chest. “That is so sweet of you, Bean. But I’m not sure you’d like it. I’m kind of boring.”
“Yes, I would. Because I like you. That’s what friends are—people who like each other. Your eyes are leaking again.”
“Damn it,” she said, and reached for a tissue.
It was ridiculous that her eyes should well because of his offer to be her friend. This kid would be friends with an alien from outer space, which, if she thought about it, was perfect for an eight-year-old boy. Still, she was moved. Maybe because no one had offered her friendship in years.This kid, man.“Thank you, Bean. I would really like that.”
“Okay.”
And just like that, the deal was done.
He continued mixing the batter, then looked at her again. “But did youeverhave a best friend?”
Read the room, kid.She didn’t want to keep talking about it. She couldn’t help but think of Callie. The thought was still painful, like a hand squeezing her heart. After all these years, she still missed her. Still wanted to talk to her. “I did. When I was thirteen.”
“Did shedie?” Bean asked in a whisper.
“I don’t think so. I feel sure someone would have told me if she had.” Maybe, but who? The thought of Callie being gone from this world squeezed her heart even more. She remembered her so clearly: long red braids, blue eyes, and too many freckles for two young girls to count without laughing. Free spirited and kind and so accepting of Lorna and her terrible homelife. They were both outcasts from the popular circles at school, which made them a merry band of two.
She shook off the memory. “I’m sure she’s fine,” she said.
“Diego is funny. We playInterspace Zombies, and one time Diego blew up a space monster and it turned into marshmallows.”
“Sounds sticky.”
“And then the marshmallows swallowed all our chickens and made them glitch.”
She had no idea what he was talking about. “Keep stirring until you don’t have any chunks.”
“I’m supposed to have a notebook,” he said.
“For what?”
“For field notes. That’s how you get a badge—you show them your field notes.”
“Hang on.” Lorna left him on his knees on a barstool, stirring the batter. She went to her writing desk and opened a drawer. She had several notebooks from various functions and stationery stores and found one from a sales conference a few years back. It was emblazoned withDriskill Workflow Solutionsabove the company logo. She returned to the kitchen with it. “Here you go—a notebook. It’s yours now.”
“Thanks!” Bean said.
She found a pencil in her catchall drawer. “I’ll pour this batter into the pan while you make some notes.”
Bean picked up the pencil and bent over the notebook. After a moment, he said, “I don’t know what to write.”
