fence near the playground. She’d sit under them and read her book until her dad came out. But when she walked over, she noticed all the pine needles on the ground. If she sat there, they’d poke her. She’d have to find another shady spot to wait.
She glanced at the door again. Still closed.
Moms and babysitters chatted on benches. Little kids chased each other around the playground, their laughter, screams and cries so loud, Bree knew she’d never be able to read if she stayed there. She kept walking but the chlorine smell of the pool made her gag and there were way too many squirrels, with their bushy tails and scary teeth, running around under the pavilion.
At the side entrance to the park, she checked behind her, but the only people following her were two boys around her age on their bikes. Hugging her backpack to her chest, she realized she was far out of sight of the rink. Was that bad? Would her dad be mad?
She wasn’t sure she cared.
She could go home. Her house was only a couple of blocks away. But if she did that, her dad might tell her mom and then Bree would really be in trouble. Her dad never punished her—never had, anyway—but her mom didn’t have a problem punishing her. The worst was when she forced Bree to go to work with her so she could learn responsibility by hauling lumber, cleaning up after the workers, washing their trucks and sweeping out the workshop where Uncle Eddie built stuff.
Learning how to be responsible sucked.
And if she ever said sucked out loud, she’d be in real trouble.
She should go back to the rink. Except...well...she’d gone a long way already, was halfway around the park. It’d be just as fast to keep going. She’d cross the wooden bridge over the creek, then follow the sidewalk back to the rink. Easy peasy.
She glanced back again, but her dad hadn’t suddenly appeared. He wasn’t calling her name, wasn’t chasing after her, wanting her to come back, to spend time with him.
Bree started walking faster, her sneakers scuffing against the sidewalk between the park’s large baseball field and tennis courts. A group of teenage boys were playing basketball so she kept her head down as she passed. She felt ugly and dumb in her heavy clothes, her sweat making her hair stick to the back of her neck. She hurried across the bridge. All she had to do was take the walkway to her left and in two minutes—three, tops—she’d be back at the rink.
She didn’t move. She was thirsty. Really, really thirsty from skating and all her walking. Uncle Leo said people needed to drink more water when it was hot out so they didn’t get dehydrated. As a firefighter, he knew all about being safe and keeping healthy.
There was a water fountain to her right by the T-ball field. With one last look around, she went right. She’d get a drink, a quick one, then be on her way.
The water was lukewarm and tasted as if she’d licked a penny, but she drank it anyway. Kept drinking until she couldn’t take in another drop. Straightening, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Still no sign of her dad.
Swinging her backpack from its strap, she walked onto the ball field, crossed to the dugout and sat on the end of the long bench. It was shady and smelled like Uncle James’s dog, Zoe, when she got wet. Bree leaned back against the cool stone wall. She had a clear view of the basketball courts as well as the parking lot behind the ice rink. Her dad’s rental car was still there so he hadn’t left without her.
Maybe she’d wait for him here. It wasn’t her fault if he couldn’t find her.
He probably wasn’t even looking.
She pulled out her book and opened it but the words were blurry and she had a lump in her throat. Sniffing, she blinked rapidly, tried to focus on the story.
“Are you okay?”
She jumped. Her book flew from her hand, landing on the ground in front of the dugout’s opening. A man, an old one like Pops, bent and picked it up, brushing the dirt from the cover. He held it out to her.
The lump in her throat grew. Standing, she accepted the book then quickly sat again, sliding farther down the bench. “Thank you.”
He nodded but his eyebrows were lowered and he watched her as if he was