But still, my painting was missing something, because no matter how gorgeous it was, I knew this wasn’t a tree I’d chain myself to.

TWENTY-THREE

The next day I sat on my bed with my notebook trying to add something more personal to the sketches I’d done of the tree. I’d told Lance’s story in my painting, but what about mine?

My computer, which was sitting next to me, dinged with an instant message.

Hey, kid.

I smiled, set the book down, and typed back. Dad! Can you video chat?

Calling now.

My computer rang and I moved the arrow to the video icon. His face came up on the screen.

“Your hair is so short,” I said.

He ran his hand over the buzz cut. “It’s hot here. Had my buddy clip it yesterday.”

“Should I go get Mom too?” I stretched up in my bed to look at the door, like she might be lurking there, waiting for the invite.

“I just got off with her. She’s in her room.”

I laughed. “I like how you know that and I don’t.”

“It’s nice knowing more than you about home life every once in a while.”

I smiled, and his smile slid off his face. “How is she?” he asked. “She was putting on a brave face, but I’m sure you know much more about that than I do.”

“She’s okay. She’s been on a few walks lately. That’s good. She promised me she’s going to my art show.”

“So you’re in the art show now? Your heart list worked!”

“Well, no, not yet. I mean, I haven’t shown him my new paintings yet. I will.”

“I’m still not happy that Mr. Wallace said you have no heart. You have the biggest heart I know.”

I blew air between my lips. “You have to say that because you’re my dad. And because you hardly know me.”

He narrowed his eyes, and I laughed.

“Just kidding. You sort of know me.”

“I know you’re more sarcastic than . . .”

“You went down that comparison road knowing you were going to crash and burn.”

“Your grandpa!” he said, finally producing an end to his sentence.

“Yeah, nice try, but I think Grandpa might still have me beat. He is older and much more experienced.”

“Speaking of your grandpa, how is he?”

“Still alive.”

A door opened and closed behind Dad, and he looked over his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he said back to me. “I have to go. Email me some pictures of your latest paintings. And Abby, don’t let anyone tell you that you have no heart.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I wish I could be there for your art show.”

I shrugged. “There might not be an art show. I mean, I might not be in it anyway, so it’s fine. . . .”

“I love you,” he said.

“Love you too.”

He clicked the End button and a grainy image of him froze on my screen for a moment. I reached out and touched the smooth surface.

I was busy trying to change the bark sketch when a head appeared around my door.

“Hey,” Cooper said.

“Who let you in?”

He smiled and came all the way into my room. “You’re not happy to see me? Is that why you hung up on me?”

“I hung up on you because I was busy.” I smiled.

“Are you still mad at me for wanting to duel Lacey?”

“No. I’ve learned long ago that you’re a dork.”

His eyes went to my hands. “What are you doing?”

“Drawing.”

“Drawing? When’s the last time you drew?” He sat down next to me and looked at the open book. “What is it?”

“Bark. Up close.”

“Okay,” he said skeptically.

He was right. It didn’t look like bark anymore. It had at one point, but I’d drawn over it so many times, trying to make it cooler or better or more dynamic, that it now looked like a bunch of scribbling. “I know you’re impressed.”

“Why aren’t you painting?”

“I was . . . sort of. I’m letting my mind brainstorm.” I pushed his shoulder. “Now stop mocking me.” I went over a line again on the page.

He took the book and pencil from me and placed them on my nightstand.

“Hey! Give them back.”

“I’m saving you from yourself.”

I sighed. “Fine. Let’s do something on the list then.” Maybe that would help.

Cooper let himself fall onto my bed, then glanced across the room at the list and gave a noncommittal shrug. His enthusiasm over the list had been declining steadily, much to my disappointment. But I still had a show to earn my way into. I couldn’t quit while there was still time. Plus, the things I was experiencing had been fun. Yesterday, after talking to Lance, I’d marked “learn a stranger’s story” off the list. I hadn’t even set out to do that and I had.

“Let’s do the ‘Cooper faces a fear’ one,” I said.

“I still haven’t thought of anything for that.”

“Yeah, right. I’m convinced you know your biggest fear, you’re just too afraid to tell me. Come on, I’m going to root it out of you.” I stood and held out my hand.

“That sounds painful.”

“I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”

“I meant painful for me.”

“I’m willing to make that sacrifice as well.”

He smiled. “And why do we have to leave the house to do this?”

“It’s part of the rooting.”

He let me drag him to his feet and out the door.

Cooper and I had a spot by the ocean. One we liked to go to that wasn’t overrun with tourists. Most days, there wasn’t another soul there. Mainly because it lacked what most people went to the ocean for—a beach. This place didn’t have yards of sand littered with shiny seashells dying to be collected. It didn’t have a place to anchor an umbrella and build sand castles. Or even a rock-free zone to jump waves as they crashed onto shore. No, this place had to be hiked to. It was secluded and small and pitted with tide pools and obstacles. It smelled like fish and seaweed and salt. But this was where we came sometimes to escape everything else. I’d grabbed my notebook along with my beach bag as we had left the house, and I turned to a clean page and held my pencil ready now.

“I’m conducting an interview,” I said, perched on a rock. One of the many purple wildflowers that grew along the cliff tickled the side of my foot.

“Of who?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“It’s part of the rooting process. I am going to discover your fear. If you don’t know it and I don’t know it, you must’ve hidden it somewhere deep in your subconscious.”

“Okay, hit me.” He leaned back on his palms.

“What is your earliest memory?”

“Easy. Four years old. Clinging onto my uncle as he drove me on a quad. When we got back, my mom told him off.”

“You obviously have strong emotions attached to this or you wouldn’t remember it. So was it fear?”