Callie
The town buzzed in that summer way that always seemed to cling to my skin.
The annual barbecue festival has started. The smell of charred corn husks and sizzling meat mixed with the sweetness of kettle corn and the faint smoke from a distant bonfire.
Music drifted from the stage at the far end, upbeat and happy, layered with the laughter of kids darting between tables, popsicle juice running down their wrists.
Couples strolled lazily, hands joined together.
I trailed after Mia, sandals crunching over gravel as she walked us through the crowd. I hadn’t wanted to come, but when did Mia ever let me hide?
“You need to stop locking yourself in that room,” she had said earlier, tossing clothes at me until I finally gave in. “It is summer, Callie. You are supposed to enjoy it. Pr
