Page 10 of Library or Lattes?

“That’s a stupid name for a tree. What’s it got to do with kissing, anyway?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes. Didn’t everyone know this already? “It’s where everyone comes to have their first kiss. And then they put their names on the tree. Look.” I held the ball tight and pointed toward the little hearts that had been cut into the tree. If you looked closely, you could see initials in their centers.

“Where’s your name, then?” he asked.

“Ew, gross! Why would I want to kiss anyone?”

He looked at me like he was thinking. “Maybe you’d wanna kiss me someday, Red?”

“Yeah no,” I said. ‘‘ ‘Red’?”

He shrugged. He looked down. And his voice was softer when he said, “I don’t know. I like your hair, I guess.”

Then he smiled. This warm, wide smile that made his brown eyes twinkle like stars. And quicker than a flash he kissed me on the mouth, snatched the ball from my hand, and ran off faster than I could say “home base.”

I couldn’t even process what had happened, and I was just standing there with my fingers on my lips when Lennie finally caught up.

She jumped off her bike, out of breath. “Are you okay? What happened?”

What did just happen? Did I just have my first kiss? Did it even count if it was stolen?

“James Parker just kissed me!”

“Are you gonna carve your name?” Lennie asked.

“No way. He didn’t even ask if he could kiss me!”

Lennie nodded, because she got it. We got each other. She said, “We’ll erase it.”

Lennie waved her hand over my face, and right then we decided that it was gone. The first kiss had never even happened.

I’d still never carved my initials, not because I hadn’t had another kiss, but because I was saving my carving for something—or someone—really special. And now I wouldn’t even get the chance. Goodbye Kissing Tree.

By the end of my shift my legs were like jelly and my feet were on fire.

I got home to see Pop painting the front-door frame. While he dipped his brush into a can of barn red, he said, “Hi, love, I picked you up some chicken from the library. It’s sitting in there in the kitchen.”

That didn’t quite compute. “Sorry, what?” I laughed. “The library?”

“Jo. She fried up some chicken and gave me extra for fixing the roof. I snuck some already and it is good. Anyway,” Pop said, switching gears. “Thought we could play cards tonight, what do you think? It’s been a while.”

“Sounds good.”

And it was. This was what life was. Fried chicken and card games in front of the fire. Decorating the Little Acorn for Harvest Festival and making pretty designs on lattes. And it suited me just fine. But it was still there in the back of my mind. That weird email that was probably a scam.

Pop dealt the cards for Go Fish, the same game we’d been playing since I was five. It didn’t matter if I was distracted. I could play it in my sleep.

I mean, it was definitely a scam. If it had been real, then a real-life letter would have shown up by now. But it hadn’t, because it wasn’t real.

“Willa?”

“What?” I looked up, shocked, forgetting that Pop couldn’t see inside my head.

“You forgot to say ‘Go Fish.’ “ Pop looked at me carefully. “Are you okay?”

I hesitated. I looked at my dad’s kind, weather-beaten face, and I just couldn’t tell him. If I ever got the letter … which I wouldn’t … then I’d tell him.

“Oh, I’m fine. Go Fish!’