I hesitated for just a second. It had seemed like my dad was giving me permission to stay out a bit longer, with his seven-a.m. comment. “Sure,” I said as we walked onto the main road, gesturing for him to follow me. “Though there’s not all that much to see.”
“Well, I doubt that,” Clark said, falling into step next to me. We were walking a little closer than I did with most people. I could have reached out and touched him easily, not even needing to extend my arm.
“Welcome to Stanwich Woods,” I said, doing my best imitation of Toby’s docent voice. “As you can see, actual woods were torn down to make it, but at least they acknowledged them with a nifty name.”
Clark turned to me, his eyebrows raised behind his glasses. “I guess you don’t like it here?”
I looked around as we took the curve in the path. To our left was a pond, complete with tiny, picturesque footbridge and weeping willow hanging over it. The streets were almost empty of cars, and in the houses we passed—all looking vaguely alike—I could see lights on in the windows and families sitting down to eat, people going about their evenings. The streets curved gently, and the wrought-iron streetlights arched over the road from either side, guaranteeing that when it was dark enough, the evening joggers and dog walkers would be able to see just fine. But you couldn’t see the stars here like you’d been able to at our farmhouse. “It’s fine,” I said after a moment of walking next to Clark in silence. Somehow, without even really being able to say how, I knew he’d wait until I was ready to answer him. And I didn’t feel the impatience coming off of him the way I sometimes did with Topher when I was taking too long to gather my thoughts. I could somehow tell that Clark would be happy to walk next to me in silence until I knew what I was going to say. “We used to live way out in backcountry,” I finally said, by way of explanation. “And then we moved here, after . . .” I hesitated for just a second, then made myself continue. “After my mom,” I said quickly, not letting myself linger on any of the words. “And it just seems so fake. Like the idea of what a picturesque village once looked like.”
Clark glanced over toward the duck pond, which was free from ducks at the moment. “I don’t know. If you ask me, living way out in the middle of nowhere is overrated.”
“How far were you from civilization?” I asked as we followed the curve in the road, and I took a tiny step closer to him—so small that even Clark might not have noticed it.
“An hour to the nearest gas station,” he said. “Two and change to the closest real town.”
“Wow,” I said, shaking my head. “That is far.”
Clark laughed. “Tell me about it. I got to see, like, two movie-theater movies a year.”
“Don’t tell my friend Bri that,” I said, smiling at him. “She’d make you get caught up on your film history, decade by decade.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” he said, giving me a shrug. “I’ve got some time on my hands this summer.”
The comment hung in the air between us, and I noticed there was just an edge of bitterness to it.
“So, about your book,” I said after a moment of silence in which I tried not to notice how close together our hands were, both swinging by our sides as we walked. Clark didn’t say anything, and I was about to change the subject, start talking about something easier . . . but then I remembered how patient he’d been, walking next to me, and I bit my lip, forcing myself to keep quiet as I walked next to him. I didn’t know how exactly, but I could tell he was trying to find the right words.
“What I told you last night?” he finally asked, and I nodded. “You’re the only person who knows that. Everyone knows I’m having trouble—there are whole websites devoted to it—but I haven’t told anyone else how bad it is.”
“Your secret is safe,” I said, raising my right hand. “Ex–Girl Scout’s honor.”
“Ex?”
“Long story,” I said, feeling like now was not the time to tell him the story that involved Toby, a cooler of ice cream, and Bri massively failing to be an effective lookout. “Another time. But I’m pretty sure the oath is still good.”
“I appreciate it,” he said. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair and causing the back to stick up funny. “I knew what was implied when my publisher offered me her house. I could stay there for free all summer, but at the end of it, I’d better have a book for them.”