“I made a mental note to write starlings in my "Southern Speak" notebook. I'd already started the second page, thanks to Faye and Bobbie. One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. "I try. So, Churchville. Let me see the map."I followed his directions, asking questions, until he drew a big circle around the funeral home. "That's it right there, just off 42. Or Buffalo Gap Highway. But you might not see any road signs. Out there things are a little...well, less posted. People just sort of know where they are. So look for these things." He drew in some more notes and--I'm not making this up--something like bugs with stick legs."What are those?" I asked, not intending to sound rude. "Roaches?""Those are cows. There's a pasture here." "Oh.”

“Everybody's amputated in some way or another, Shiloh. We lose loved ones, cut off memories forever, end relationships. Go down paths we can't return from. We can't always have it back. I know, it might seem far out there, but I think there's some truth in it,"Rick continued. "We all experience loss. And that's what amputation is all about: irretrievable loss. A part of you that's no longer there.”

“Becky fell unusually quiet as she smoothed Macy's overalls that had scrunched under her legs. A tender gesture probably nobody else had noticed. "I don't want to say this the wrong way, Shah-loh, but we're all gonna die.""Of course we are." A drop of water fell from the end of the snapdragon stem. "But I prefer not to kill my flowers before their time.""Well, cut er not cut, we're all goin'." Becky spoke so soberly that I turned my eyes to her. "Ain't no stoppin' it. You know that.""Sure I do, but isn't it a waste? All that beautiful bloom for what-an hour?""Mebbe in some ways, but..." She gathered a handful of roses and freesia, delicately perfumed, and pressed them in my hands. "Ya gotta remember though-this was their purpose all along. And they did it to their fullest. It's their gift."I felt strangely moved, standing there with shoppers laughing in the background. And me looking down at those beautiful doomed flowers in my hands, their glowing colors trembling with drops."But it's such a waste, Becky!""Or a sacrifice. Depends on how ya look at it. They lived and bloomed, jest like they were made to do. And when it was time to go, they gracefully said yes."She ran her hands over the petals, which gleamed like bits of satin. "We're seein' their last magnificent moments and enjoyin' 'em. If you was a flower, wouldn't that make ya happy to know you'd done what you was born ta do? Even if ya didn't get to do it very long?”

“Stubble or what?" Eyes still closed he chuckled. "I'm not shaving until our parents let us date again." He kissed my cheek. "What if it takes... a... while?" I asked struggling to talk. He'd made his way down to my neck. His tongue circled there slowly. "There are only six or seven weeks until August football practice starts right?" "Hm." His mouth moved up my neck toward my ear. Oh. "Will you be able to stuff your beard into your helmet?" I croaked. In answer he put his lips on my ear. I forgot the next joke I'd planned to make and lost myself in Adam.”

“Are you OK?" I asked."I think so." Logan stared at me, and a smile pulled up his lips. "But maybe you should give me mouth-to-mouth, just to make sure.”

“Because the truth was, and we both knew it, he'd gone long, long ago. I'd just made him stick around when he really wanted to be somewhere else. In his own weird way, he was another victim of the shooting, One of the ones who couldn't get away. "Are you mad?" he asked, which I thought was a really strange question. "Yes," I said. And I was. It's just that I wasn't so sure I was mad at him. But I don't think he needed to hear that part. I don't think he wanted to hear that part. I think it was important to him to hear that I cared enough to be angry."Will you ever forgive me?" he asked."Will you ever forgive me?" I shot back, leveling my gaze directly into his eyes.He stared into them for a few moments then got up silently and headed for the door. He didn't turn around when he reached it. Just grabbed the doorknob and held it. "No," he said without facing me. "Maybe that makes me a bad parent, but I don't know if I can. No matter what the police found, you were involved in that shooting, Valerie. You wrote those names on that list. You wrote my name on that list. You had a good life here. You might not have pulled the trigger, but you helped cause the tragedy."He opened the door."I'm sorry. I really am." He stepped out into the hallway. "I'll leave my new address and phone number with your mother," he said before walking slowly out of my sight.”

“Truth or dare.""Not fair. You already had a turn.""Correct me if I'm wrong, but this little excursion was to make me happy."I sighed, knowing I'd already lost. "You're right.""DO I look happy to you?" He visibly deflated in his seat and pulled down the corners of his mouth. He looked like a very pretty scarecrow. "Well?""No,Mr. Hobbes, you do not look happy.""So..."I eyed the racks around us. There seemed to be an awful lot of jungle and orange. "If I say 'dare,' are you going to make me put on leopord print?""I might.""If I take 'truth,' will you promise not to ask any more questions about Alex?""I will not.”