Page 77 of Possibly Texas

Susurrus Creek never flowed like roaring rapids, but sometimes it drifted by peacefully like a lazy river, and at other times, it whisked by like a hummingbird in flight. I theorized that the breeze and weather, along with how full the body of water that fed it was, had a lot to do with it. After the fireworks, it was in lazy river mode. Creeping by lethargically a few yards below the soles of our shoes, Susurrus Creek whispered softly as we stared up at the pinpricked velvet above us.

“Wyatt and Grandy put on a better display every year,” Auggie said, breaking the silence we’d sat in for half an hour. “I time them every year. Well, kind of. Just in my head. I don’t have a stopwatch or anything, but this year they went five minutes longer.”

“Not to sound rude, but I’m just glad they didn’t hurt themselves,” I said with a chuckle. “They seem like they…would do that.”

Auggie chuckled.

“There’s a big difference between who we are and what we do,” he said. “What we’ve done and what we’re capable of doing.”

“You’re so cryptic.” I smiled and looked down at my feet.

I didn’t want to look at Auggie. Seeing that diamond shining bright in the dark was a bad idea.

“I’m not,” he said. “You just don’t listen.”

He nudged me in the side with his elbow playfully.

“So,” Auggie continued, “I have a theory.”

I forced myself to look at him, but made sure to focus on his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“The letters to Shirlene actually arrive in an envelope, addressed to Shirlene. With an address and everything. But maybe it’s, like, some crazy address that doesn’t exist,” Auggie said. “So, since she knows they’re undeliverable, Sofia opens them and posts them on the wall. May as well get some excitement out of it, right?”

“Sure, yeah,” I shrugged, suddenly not so distracted by Auggie’s poliosis mark, “that’s a solid theory.”

“You got a better one?”

“I’m leaning towards Sofia, too,” I said. “But I think she’s actually writing them. If not her, my next guess is Grandy. They’re kind of poetic, right? He’s a philosophy guy. That might check out.”

Auggie reached up to rub his chin.

“That might be,” he said. “Both seem possible.”

“It’d be really wild if it was like, Wyatt or Agnes, though. They’d be my least likely suspects.”

“What about Jack?”

“Jack?” I gasped. “I would never suspect him.”

“No, I mean, wouldn’t he be one of the least likely and that’s why it would be shocking?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “It’s not Jack’s style. I don’t think. He’s not really clear with his feelings. Then again, that probably means he’s less likely to write love letters to some mysterious woman.”

“Agreed.”

“Even if he did, I don’t think he’d show anyone,” I added.

“Concur once again,” Auggie said with a chuckle.

The two of us swung our legs lazily over the creek and looked down at our shoes, having no further theories to share about the Shirlene letters. I thought to ask Auggie about when we’d try his installation art maze again, but something told me he’d invite me when he was ready. Pushing for an invitation would not be unwelcome, but maybe not polite.

Susurrus Creek drifted by as the Possibilian breeze whispered along the back of my neck, tickling the hairs there with its cool breath. Even with the nearly full moon—waning as it was—shining down above us, the town was cast in blue and black shadows. With Auggie by my side, I didn’t feel as nervous as I had when I’d walked to his barn alone. Companionship makes darkness more tolerable.

Though we had nowhere to be and Jack wouldn’t be worried about me, I knew that we’d both eventually have to go home. I didn’t know what to say to Auggie, but I didn’t want the night to end. It had been a perfect day. Auggie’s parents would probably worry about him if he stayed out too late. Then again, I’d never laid eyes on Auggie’s parents. I had no idea how they’d feel.

Why had I never met Auggie’s parents?