Where We Used to Roam Jenn Bishop (red white royal blue TXT) 📖

One was for Lucy, whose birthday was in April. I wanted something that pulled together all her talents and interests: collage and singing and animals. When I was little, I’d loved Calico Critters, and I still had some deep in my closet. The teeny outfits they came with made them look for sure like little-kid toys, but with some fabric and a glue gun and, okay, Mom’s credit card for a few things I found cheap on Etsy, I turned them into a country trio. For the background, I sliced up sample wallpapers my mom had gotten back when she redid the downstairs bathroom. It was a little bit country, a little bit girlie, and somehow, exactly right for Lucy.

Another was for my grandparents out in California. They were in assisted living, close by Mom’s sister Kelly, and we didn’t see them a ton. My grandma loved to cook, though, so I used her favorite recipe—for buttermilk blueberry muffins—as the backdrop. I’d found a miniature colander and a bunch of blue marbles at a yard sale. The hard part was making sure the marbles didn’t roll around. So much glue!

I still didn’t know who the last one was for, but I’d found a bird’s nest on the ground out back one weekend when I was helping my dad with yard work. He said not to touch it just in case, so I didn’t, but once it had sat there for a week, it was fair game.

I wanted this box to be all found objects. Why, I didn’t exactly know. Only that it felt right. One afternoon in mid-May on my walk home from school with Becca, I spotted a tiny red mitten. It had probably fallen off some little baby in a stroller in the winter, got buried in the snow, and then been blown all over the place in the spring.

I snatched it up off the ground.

“Ew, Emma. It’s probably dirty,” Becca said.

“It’s not like I’m planning to eat it,” I replied, sticking it in my jeans pocket. “It’s perfect for my shadow box though. At least, I think.”

“Did you turn in your forms for Camp McSweeney yet?” Becca asked.

The annual sixth-grade class trip wasn’t for another month yet, but they made us do permission slips early because it involved a lot of planning. At least that’s what my mom said. She had volunteered for it back when Austin was my age and complained for months. I swear, me just bringing home the permission slip seemed to trigger her.

Right before the last week of the school year, the entire sixth grade would spend three nights on Cape Cod at Camp McSweeney, doing team-building exercises and learning about oceanography. We’d even get to tour a cranberry bog and a potato chip factory. Yeah, they totally had Kennedy at “potato chip.” Me too, to be honest.

“Yeah,” I said. There was a spot on the form to request a cabin mate. They said it wasn’t a guarantee, but if you put your friend’s name there, odds were you’d end up bunking in the same cabin.

But they let you put down only one name. So we had to strategize. Kennedy put down Lucy. Lucy put down me. And I put down Kennedy.

“Did you?” I asked.

Becca shook her head. “My mom was trying to figure out who to ask about keeping kosher and, well, you know my mom. She got wrapped up in something at work and forgot. Who did you write in?”

“Kennedy,” I said. And then probably too quickly: “You hadn’t asked and—”

“It’s fine,” Becca said. “I mean, I can probably still put you down.”

“Or you could put down Fern?” She and Fern Robbins had been doing bat mitzvah prep together all spring.

“I guess…,” Becca said.

“I just mean your chances are probably better. Especially if you both put each other.” I explained our triangle strategy.

“Mathematically true,” Becca said, seeing my line of thinking.

The last thing I wanted was for her to think I didn’t want her in my cabin, even though a tiny part of me didn’t. Especially if it meant I couldn’t be with Kennedy and Lucy.

“As long as we’re not with Haven Mulligan.”

“Right?” I laughed. “I wish there was a way to write that on the form.”

“No kidding. Too bad your mom’s not volunteering. Hey, so… I haven’t seen Austin out running in a while. Everything okay with him?”

Ever since I’d told Kennedy about how Austin had let me down, I wished I hadn’t. In a way, it was like saying it out loud to someone had made the whole situation real. And that was the last thing I wanted. I wanted him to go back to the way he was before, the brother he’d always been to me.

Becca only knew that Austin. I didn’t want her to know this one.

“He’s not doing spring track this year,” I said, as if that’s all that was different.

“Your mom must be so bummed.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Now the only track star in the family is me.” I grimaced.

“Hey, you’re better than me. How fast is your mile now?”

“Just under nine minutes.” I left off the fact that I was one of the last finishers at every meet.

“That’s amazing! Remember in gym class? I could barely finish it in twelve.”

“On the plus side, I haven’t accidentally stabbed anyone with a javelin… yet.”

“Good job, Emma. Good job.” Becca laughed.

By that point we were at the edge of her driveway. The magnolia tree in front of her house was in full bloom. If there were a way to snap one of those blossoms off and keep it just like that forever, I would 100 percent put it in a box. But there’s something sad about dried flowers. At least to me. They only reminded me of the real thing.

“Yikes—I’d better get my homework done. My mom’s taking me to Porter Square Books tonight for an author event.” Her eyes lit up when she said it.

“Oh, cool. Well, have fun.” There was