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By Root 215 0

but as they got out of the car, she knew what Carrie Anne meant. She wasn’t being mean, just honest. And really, Sophie told herself, wouldn’t she rather be smart than beautiful? Wasn’t that one of the very things that Dylan had said attracted him to her in the first place? Her mind? Her spirit? And her commitment to God? Sophie pulled out her cell phone as they walked down the grassy slope toward the dock area. No connectivity. So . . . what if all this time Dylan had really wanted to call her but just couldn’t use his cell phone out here? What if she’d blown this whole thing out of proportion for nothing? Poor Dylan had been stuck out here at the lake, and she’d been stuck in town—separated by their families and by the lack of cell phone service. Kind of like Romeo and Juliet. Okay, not quite that dramatic, but it sounded good. Anyway, it was entirely possible that Dylan was sitting down there on the dock right now, pining away and just waiting for her to make her appearance and to make his day.

She imagined Dylan’s long-limbed gait as he galloped up the hill toward her, his shaggy brown hair ruffled in the wind, his bright smile framed in his handsome, tanned face. He would lean down and swoop her into his arms. He would look directly into her eyes and tell her how much he had missed her. And then they would kiss— “Earth to Sophie!”

“Huh?”

“I was just saying that looks like the Morris boat over there.” Carrie Anne was pointing to a canary yellow ski boat pulling what looked like a wakeboard rider. “And I’ll bet that’s Dylan in back.”

Sophie squinted behind her sunglasses, peering out over the shiny blue lake to where a lanky guy was doing a jump over the wave being made by the boat’s wake. She nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“And there’s Dad at the dock,” Carrie Anne said. She grabbed Sophie’s hand and began to run. “Let’s hurry before he takes off again.”

Sophie did a pretty decent job of keeping up with Carrie Anne’s longer legs, and the truth was that she was anxious to get down to the water too. They had just reached the boat ramp area when one of her flip-flops decided to flop instead of flip, and the next thing she knew, she was facedown in the gravel.

“Oh, Sophie!” Carrie Anne cried. “Are you okay?”

Sophie reached up for Carrie Anne’s extended hand, letting her friend help pull her back to her feet. “I, uh, I think so.”

“Oh no!” Carrie Anne looked worried. “Your chin is bleeding.”

Sophie reached for her chin, which was throbbing like someone had just smacked it with a sledgehammer.

“And your arms—and your legs!” Carrie Anne’s eyes were huge. “You look like hamburger—raw hamburger.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Sorry.” Carrie Anne gently led Sophie toward the day camp area.

“Oh, Sophie,” Mrs. Vincent called as she hurried over to meet them. “What happened?”

“She fell down in the gravel,” Carrie Anne said.

“Oh dear.” Mrs. Vincent frowned. “There’s a first-aid kit in the boat. Run and get it, Carrie Anne.”

The next thing Sophie knew, she was sitting on a wooden bench, feeling like she was about six years old, and Mrs. Vincent was carefully extracting pieces of gravel from her knees and elbows and chin. Soon she was cleaning the wounds and then applying some kind of greasy ointment. To make matters worse, several friends of the Vincents were now gathered about to watch the spectacle.

“Wow, that looks like it hurts,” Mrs. Stewart said. Sophie forced a smile for her as she picked a piece of gravel from her elbow. She didn’t know the Stewarts too well, except that Mr. Stewart had attended seminary with Carrie Anne’s dad and maybe Dylan’s as well.

“Your chin is starting to look like Jay Leno’s.” This from a blonde girl in a turquoise bikini. Sophie suspected she might be the Stewarts’ youngest daughter, but the girl had sure grown up since the last time Sophie had seen her.

“April Lynnette!” Mrs. Stewart scolded.

April just laughed. “Sorry, Mom, but it’s the truth.”

Sophie’s hand was on her chin, partly to hide it and partly to determine whether or not it was fractured. Was it possible to break your chinbone?