The Girl Who Chased the Moon Read Online Free PDF Page A

of Coke.
    “Go on,” he said. “Take it.”
    She reached for the can, her hand shaking slightly. She took a long drink and it was cold, sweet, and so sharp it made her tongue burn. She couldn’t remember the last time something had tasted this good. She couldn’t stop drinking. In no time she had emptied the can.
    When she finished, breathless, she closed her eyes and pressed the cold can against her forehead. When was the last time she’d had something to drink? When she thought back, it was long before she’d gotten on the bus in Boston yesterday.
    She heard a crackling of paper. The young man said, “Don’t be alarmed,” and she felt something cold on the back of her neck. Freezing. Her hand went instantly to her neck, covering his hand with hers.
    “What is that?” she demanded.
    “I believe it’s a Creamsicle,” he said, leaning back to look at it. “It was the first thing I grabbed from the freezer in the general store.”
    For the first time, she noticed that they were sitting in front of a deliberately old-fashioned place called Zim’s General Store. The door was propped open and Emily could see large barrels of candy near the cash register, and an entire wall of vintage reproduction tin signs in the back.
    “It’s mostly for the tourists, so it’s been a long time since I’ve been in there,” he said. “But it still smells like cinnamon and floor polish. Are you still with me? How are you feeling?”
    She turned back to him and realized just how close he was, close enough to see that his ivy-green irises were rimmed in black. Strangely, she thought she could actually feel him, feel a sort of energy emanating from him, like heat from a fire. He was so odd and lovely. For a moment, she was completely under his spell. She’d been staring at him for a while before she realized what she was doing. Then she also realized her hand was still on his on her neck. She slowly moved her hand and shifted away. “I’m fine now. Thank you.”
    He took the paper-covered Creamsicle off her neck and held it out to her, but she shook her head. He shrugged and unwrapped it. He took a bite as he sat back and crossed his legs, studying the store in front of them. She almost wished she’d taken the Creamsicle now. It looked delicious—cool vanilla and sharp bright orange.
    “I’m Emily Benedict,” she said, extending her hand.
    He didn’t turn to her, nor did he take her hand. “I know who you are.” He took another bite of the Creamsicle.
    Emily’s hand fell to her lap. “You do?”
    “I’m Win Coffey. My uncle was Logan Coffey.”
    She looked at him blankly. This was obviously something he thought she should know. “I just moved here.”
    “Your mother didn’t tell you?”
    Her mother? What did her mother have to do with this? “Tell me what?”
    He finally turned to her. “Good God. You really don’t know.”
    “Know what?” This was beginning to concern her.
    He stared at her for an uncomfortably long time. “Nothing,” he finally said as he threw away what was left of the Creamsicle in a receptacle by the bench, then stood. “If you’re not feeling well enough to walk home on your own, I can call our driver to take you.”
    “I’ll be fine.” She lifted the can slightly. “Thank you for the Coke.”
    He hesitated. “I’m sorry I refused to shake your hand. Forgive me.” He held out his hand. Confused, she took it. She was immediately shocked by the warmth of him, stretching out to her like wandering vines. He made her feel tangled in him, somehow. It wasn’t exactly a bad feeling, just strange.
    He released her hand and she watched him walk down the sidewalk. His skin almost glowed in the morning summer sun, which was slanting across the buildings in blinding golds and tangerines. He looked so alive, shining with it.
    For a moment, she couldn’t look away.
    “Emily?”
    She turned and saw her giant grandfather walking toward her carrying a paper bag. People were parting on the