Hey guys! A few quick things before we take off: first off, here's your trigger warning for the whole story. Not exactly sure where this is gonna go, so I'm putting one here now. I'm not going to go any more intense with this than I think the show itself would, but I wanted to still put it out there to be safe. Second, I've rated it T for now, but that *might* change. We'll see.
I'm glad you popped in, and I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 1
It was the first day of senior year at her new school, and Jo was scared. But fear was an old nemesis, so that was nothing new.
She knew Hawkins High would be smaller than the place she'd been going to in New York, but that somehow made it… not better? Smaller community, which meant everybody knew each other. Would that make it harder to find new friends? Probably. She might as well have had a neon sign flashing over her head that read: outsider. It wasn't that she wore anything flashy or did her hair or makeup in some crazy way or had a personality as big as the planet; she kept to herself mostly, with her nose in her favorite book or her sketchpad, usually listening to whatever of her mixtapes she'd smuggled into her Walkman that morning. But though she'd try to blend into the walls, the others would smell new blood. Jo wasn't ready to run from the monsters here yet, when she was already so exhausted from dodging the one at home.
The buses hadn't arrived yet; the only cars in the lot had to belong to the teachers at this hour. And the only students that would be there would be the basketball team, which her father was already running through preseason drills. As she sat on the bleachers watching them sprint between the green and orange lines on the floor, shoes squeaking in protest with the sudden changes in direction, Jo marveled at how none of the boys seemed particularly bothered by him. They probably didn't know what the redness in his face or the vein spidering out on his forehead meant yet. Or maybe that was reserved just for her. Either way, her heart crawled into her mouth the louder he yelled. A least none of them were stupid enough to challenge him, even if the looks on their reddened faces said they grew less fond of him the longer they ran.
Jo tried to return her focus to the sketch she was working on. It was nothing special, something she'd slapped out last night before she went to bed, but shading the light into her dog's eyes made him seem closer. They'd left Charlie in New York with her mom when the divorce happened. Someone had been out walking their own Golden the night before as the sun was going down, and through tears she'd started to draw. It was small and stupid to cry over, so her father had said. He was probably right. But as she smoothed out Charlie's fur on the page, she could just about feel it under her hand. If only she could hop on a plane back to Manhattan….
Her dad's whistle brought her back to reality with a jolt. The lead in her pencil snapped, sending a dark line across Charlie's face. With a huff, she slammed the sketchbook shut and shoved it back into her backpack. The team, bent over trying to catch their breaths, stumbled past her.
"God, if that maniac made us run seven more feet," one of them growled, "I'd've shoved my shoe so far up his ass it'd've shot out his mouth."
"He's getting us ready, dipshit." He gasped for air as he brushed his soaked blond hair off his forehead. "We won't win a championship if we're getting outrun."
"Yeah, say that again in fifteen minutes, Carver, when I don't want to punch you both in the face."
"Or maybe Coach Walker was right. Maybe you really aren't cut out for this…."
Their voices faded as they trooped into the locker room. Jo slung her backpack over her shoulder and shakily made her way down the bleachers. Engines roared and hydraulics hissed outside. Chatter floated in through the open gym doors, as well as the sound of hundreds of shoes grinding asphalt. Her stomach flipped. The soles of her Converse finally found the gym floor, and she stood staring at the open door, watching the other kids stream past and into the main school building.
Jo pulled her schedule out of her jeans pocket, smoothed it out with now shaking hands, tried to take a deep breath, and headed towards the door.
Crushing pressure encased the top of her left arm. She was jerked from her course so hard she nearly hit the hardwood floor. Her father towered over her, locking her arm in a deathgrip. Even though it hurt, Jo knew better than to squirm. She didn't know what she'd done to piss him off, but she never did.
"Those clowns might be an embarrassment," he said into her ear, waving back towards the court, "but you sure as hell won't be, Josephine Paige. Straight As. College acceptances. And to none of the shitty places around here. You better get into somewhere good. Anybody you meet, you tell me about them. I decide if you keep them around. Get in there, and get it done. Do not make me look bad, got it?"
Staring blankly into the floor, Jo nodded. "Yes, sir."
He let her go with what no one passing by would have known was a shove, but what Jo's stumbling feet certainly recognized as one. Her father caught sight of something behind her, and his face changed completely. A bright smile replaced the scowl he'd had seconds before. Someone must have been in the doorway.
"Bye, sweetheart!" Cheerfulness fit him about as well as a smile on a snake. "Good luck!"
Sure enough, a teacher was standing in the doorway. Jo breezed past her, fighting to keep her face neutral as she stepped out into the now crowded hallways for the first time. She felt like every eye in the building was on her. By the time she finally found her locker fifteen minutes later, she was starting to recognize the who's the new kid whispers. The darting eyes and half-covered smirks said it all.
She forced song lyrics into her brain to try to calm herself down. Phantom drum beats pounded in her ears, guitars chugged and growled, and she felt a little of the knot in her shoulder loosen.
A sinner once, a sinner twice,
No need for confessions now,
'Cause now you've got the fight of your life….
At least Metallica got it. Sort of.
Jo tried her locker combination and opened the door, though she had nothing to put in it. She'd decided she'd tape her schedule inside the door once she didn't feel glued to it anymore, but compared to the other kids' pictures and decorations, it was nothing. She'd asked to put a few pictures inside the door, but her father had shot them all down.
Of course he had. Her mom was in all of them.
She shut her locker door, schedule still in hand, and started looking for her homeroom. Friends were finding each other at every turn after a summer apart; clusters of students stood in circles talking and laughing. Try as she might, Jo couldn't stop the loneliness welling up in her. She'd have her own group soon. Maybe. If someone actually liked her, and if that someone was… approved.
"God, where'd you get that outfit?" a girl with short reddish-brown hair sneered at her. She smacked away on a piece of gum. "You only shop at a thrift store?"
The boy next to her guffawed. "A dumpster's more like it!"
Jo put her head down and focused on getting away. Someone pushed past her as she kept walking. Before she rounded the corner, she saw him march up to the pair of them. He ran a hand through his thick dark hair, scowling at them, and put his hands on his hips.
"You guys are assholes," she heard him snap, "you know that, right…?"
Wait–what room was she looking for again? Jo pulled out her schedule and unfolded it. 211B.
211B. She had 207. And next to it was 208. She started down the hallway, chanting the number to herself like a mantra. 211B. 211B. 211B–
Voices rose up over the crowded hallways. Barking laughter, too, and not the pleasant kind. Jo poked her head around the corner and held her breath. The basketball team had gathered in the hallway, preening in their green and white letter jackets. It almost looked like they had cornered someone against the lockers–or they wanted to, but none of them were going to get close enough to whoever it was to actually do it.
"Oh," one of them barked, "you're about to wish you'd've gotten out of here last year, you piece of shit!"
It was the blond boy from earlier. Something, or maybe the someone, had set him off. Or maybe he'd picked on the wrong person and was about to catch it in the teeth. The others around him all started shouting at once. Jo was waiting for a fist to fly, when someone shoved past her. Her stomach lurched. It was her father.
He stormed over to them. "Somebody better start talking!"
The boys in the letter jackets jumped back and out of the way like they'd been pulled by invisible ropes, trying for innocent expressions but just looking surprised. The first thing Jo noticed about the person they'd singled out was his hair–it fell in dark ringlets to just past his shoulders–and then the wallet chain hanging from his black jeans. Then he turned around.
"Coach Walker!" Spite dripped from his smirk. "Least you must be, considering how these dudes–" he waved to the players flanking him "-just snapped to. Listen, I hate to burst your bubble on your first day–" he sauntered forward "-but God, you've gotten desperate if you're trying to recruit me. See, I have terrible hand-eye coordination, like I'd be catching that damn thing with my teeth–"
"What in hell–"
" I can hear it now: He shoots! He misses! No one's shocked!" He shook his head and chuckled. "Like, it'd be baaaaaad. So if you don't mind, I'm just gonna grab my stuff–"
"I think I know who I'm dealing with here." Her father stepped forward, towering over the boy, who didn't flinch. "My guys have told me all about you, Munson–"
The boy turned towards the nearest of the basketball players. Mischief lit his entire face. "D'awwwwww. You guys told him about me? Shit, I'm almost flattered. Almost."
"Would you shut up?!"
He fell silent, but the smirk hadn't left his dark eyes, and his lips still curled. He was playing with fire, and he wasn't in the least bit afraid of it as it danced across his ringed fingers. Jo held her breath.
"Listen, you quit messing with my guys, okay? And if I catch you–"
"Yeah, here's the thing, coach." He stepped up again, almost uncomfortably close. Jo started to ask herself if he was crazy, but that was readily obvious. Her father's face was reddening, his eyes starting to burn, which made the boy's smirk widen as he paced around him. "Unless you count a dude who's half-awake and dead inside 'cause his sad ass is still stuck in this shithole when he'd rather be anywhere else in world, unless you count that guy dragging himself to his locker to grab his shit so he can get on with his life, unless you call that messing with your guys, you might wanna have a chat with them, 'cause you'd've thought I robbed a damn bank the way they came flying at me–"
"Doubt that."
"Sucks for you, dude. Still true."
Jo didn't have to see her father's entire face to know he'd rolled his eyes. "That what happened, guys?"
"Hell no," the blond said. "Wasn't us who started it. This freak's always making trouble–"
The boy smirked. "Don't make me blush, Carver." He turned back to Jo's father. "But really. Wasn't me this time. I swear."
Jo's father raised his eyebrows, looking the boy over like an annoyed cop. "Is that so?"
"Yeah. 'Cause, c'mon, if it'd've been me, coach, you'd've known. You'd've known."
They all fell silent, staring at each other. The boy bent and picked up his backpack. It was then Jo noticed his Metallica shirt and the guitar pick hanging around his neck.
"Good talk." He started to push past them and escape down the hallway. He threw a sarcastic wave over his shoulder. "Have a good day, gentlemen."
"God, Carver," Jo's father scoffed. "You weren't kidding when you said he was a freak–"
The boy spun on his heel so fast a few girls passing next to him screamed. He raised his index fingers to his forehead, stuck his tongue out as far as it would go, and growled, a roguish light sparking in his eyes. The message was clear: I know what you think of me, and I don't care.
He caught sight of Jo, who's mouth had fallen open, and winked at her before turning around. Jo threw herself behind the wall she'd been peeking out from, a hand clapped over her mouth and her eyes squeezing shut as she fought to hold back laughter.
Had she really just seen that?
By the time Jo's father was storming past her, the nerve on his forehead was popping out. The rest of the team and the onlookers dispersed to their homerooms, grumbling. Jo resumed the search for her own, trying to beat back the smile that was cutting across her face and failing miserably.
211B.
She found her seat, sat down, and burst into another fit of astonished giggles.
Who was he?
Steadily throughout the day, Jo's backpack bloated with her books as she gathered them. Class wouldn't start to get interesting until some point next week, if it decided to at all. English might not be that bad; she wasn't a writer, but she didn't mind it. History would put her to sleep. Trigonometry was going to kill her. But her last two periods of the day were art and music, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to them. All she had to do to get to them was survive lunch, chemistry, and a free period, which she'd been ordered to spend in the library. It promised to be a boring hour, considering she didn't have any real school work to complete yet.
She trudged to her locker and dropped off her stuff she wouldn't need: everything except her favorite copy of her favorite book. She didn't have anyone to talk to, so spending lunch with her mind half in another world didn't sound too bad at all. Holding the old book close, she silently wound her way to the cafeteria, made it through the lunch line, and found an empty table to sit at. She kept an eye out for the boy from earlier, but didn't hold her breath. What would she even say to him, if she did try to introduce herself? It'd probably be a disaster. But it hardly mattered anyway. She didn't see him.
The others all talked and laughed; some looked towards her curiously as she took a seat and propped the book open. The crinkle of the pages, the scent of aged paper and binding, it offered a little bit of comfort as she took a bite of her lunch and started to read:
The sun was already westering as they rode from Edoras, and a light of it was in their eyes, turning all the rolling fields of Rohan to a golden haze….
She imagined the wind on her face as the Golden Hall disappeared behind her, the beat of horses' hooves, the clank of armor and steel and the creak of leather as the Riders started their journey to Helm's Deep. She'd read it a thousand times, but it never got old. As always happened, any semblance of reality and time melted away as she lost herself in the pages. It was, at least, a piece of home. A piece of her mom her father couldn't take away from her. Her note was still inside the front cover. Jo flipped to read it:
Happy birthday, JoJo! This was mine for a long time; I know it will have a good home with you. We'll talk about it after you finish–or before, if you get excited! Happy reading!
I love you!
Mom
Heat rose behind her eyes, but she battled it back while taking a sip of water. She could hear her voice as she read just as readily as she would have had her mom been in the room. She wondered if she'd grown her black hair out like she'd told Jo she would, or if she'd taken her maiden name back yet. A lot of Jo hoped she would, and a lot of her was guilty for hoping. With a sigh, she turned back to her book–
–only to have it ripped out of her hands.
Shit.
"Awww, poor thing, she's reading 'cause she's lonely." It was the redheaded girl from earlier, still smacking away on that piece of gum. "What are we reading, hmm?"
Jo couldn't look at her. "Please give that back."
The girl snapped the book shut and squinted at the cover. She burst out laughing. "Oh God."
"What?" Jo hadn't noticed the boy who'd plopped on the other side of her, the same one who had mocked her in the hallway earlier. "Carol, let me see!"
He yanked the book out of the girl's hands, took one look at it and guffawed. "Lord of the Rings? Really? God, that's stupid. Nerd. Hey." He stood up on the lunch table bench, holding the book in the air. "Hey! Guys! New girl's a giant nerd! It's… uh…" He stepped back down. "What's your name again?"
Jo just shook her head and tried to stop her hands from shaking.
The girl chortled. "Can't talk either, I guess." She batted her hand across the loose bun at the back of Jo's neck. "God, your mom ever buy you a hair brush? Or, like, some conditioner? It's looking pretty sad." She started pawing through Jo's hair. "Geez, that's pathetic."
"Get off me."
"Oh my God!" the boy said. "She can speak!"
"Barely," the girl sneered. "What was that, sweetie? I couldn't hear you."
Riiiiiiiing!
"Oop." The girl pressed her lips together and gave Jo's hair one last bat. "Saved by the bell."
Jo couldn't move, try as she might. She still couldn't look at either of them, not even to try to search for her precious copy of–
"Oh shit, almost forgot!" The boy produced Jo's book in his hands as he stood. "Gotta give this back. Thanks for letting me borrow it." He dropped it in the middle of her plate, sending food flying across the table, onto Jo's shirt, in her face even.
"Oh-ho! Butterfingers!" He knocked down her cup of water. It sloshed in her lap and soaked the cover of the book. "Sorry!"
He and the girl burst out laughing as Jo scrambled to lift the book out of the puddle of water before it was completely ruined. It was dripping when she picked it up.
"God, what a loser!" she heard the girl shout as they disappeared into the hallway.
The heat returned to the backs of her eyes as she shot out of the cafeteria, forgetting the mess the two had made behind her. She got to her locker, snatched up her backpack, and stormed down the hallway, tears almost blinding her.
Screw chemistry. She had to get out of this place.
The nearest door to the outside world spat her out by the football field. No one was out here, but people could still look out and see her. Not good enough. She wanted to disappear. She made a beeline for the woods behind the field, found a small trail, and hurried along it. It eventually led to a little clearing with a single picnic table sitting in the middle of it. She threw her bag down and sank to the ground with her back to a tree. And she finally let herself cry.
You're so damn sensitive, Josephine. It wasn't that bad. You've just gotta learn to toughen up.
That was the last voice she wanted to hear right now, but in moments like these, her father's was always the one coursing through her head. She picked her copy of Lord of the Rings, trying to inspect the damage through her tears. It wasn't as bad as she initially thought, but she definitely couldn't cram it in her backpack without ruining it completely. It wasn't dripping anymore, but her mom's note had smeared some and the pages were mostly wet through. The sight of the ink on her fingers broke her even more.
Why couldn't these people just leave her alone–
"Hey."
Jo jumped out of her skin. She hadn't heard anyone coming. The speaker chuckled nervously.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to sneak up on you. Just…"
Jo wiped the tears from her eyes and realized she was looking at the boy from that morning, the one who had faced down her father. He held his hands up, an apologetic smile on his face.
"Are you okay?"
Jo shook her head. "God, no."
"Figured." He sat down next to her. "I heard Perkins and Hagan laughing, and then you came flying past. They're assholes. Sorry they singled you out. It's… not fun."
Jo shook her head, a few tears falling down her cheeks. "Understatement of the century." She stared at the wet book in her hands. He followed her gaze.
"Shit. They do that?"
Jo only sighed.
"God, I hate them. Hang on." He jumped to his feet. "Can I see it? I think I can save it."
Jo wasn't sure if she trusted him just yet, but she found herself handing the book over to him nonetheless. Holding it carefully, he scanned the branches above them for a second and grinned.
"Yup. I'm gonna save the Shire. Hold on."
Jo's brow wrinkled. "You know Tolkien?"
"Hell yeah. I've read mine to death. Been my favorite for a long time." He stood on his tiptoes, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated, and reached for the lowest, thinnest branch he could find that would support some extra weight. Gingerly he slid the book onto it. Slowly, he let the branch go, careful not to let it snap. The book rose with it. "The wind should dry it out. Give it a few hours. Might be a little wrinkly, but still in one piece. Definitely still readable. Oh, uh… I'm Eddie, by the way. Probably should've led with that."
For the first time that day, Jo found herself smiling. "Jo."
He flopped down next to her and held out his hand. Jo's smile grew to a little laugh as she took it and shook it.
"Nice to meet you, Jo. You're new, right? Where'd you come from?"
"New York."
"Like upstate? Or…"
"The city. On the outskirts."
"Really?!"
Jo chuckled. "Mmmhm."
"Shit! That's, like, the top of the bucket list for me. You ever been to the Garden?"
"A few times. My mom worked there for like a year. Sold concessions. But she got us nosebleeds to a few of the smaller shows. Nobody I knew, but it was still really cool. I'd love to see somebody big one day. And not in the stands, either. Down in the pit."
Eddie grinned. "Me too."
"I uh… I like your shirt."
Eddie's brown eyes popped. "You know Metallica?"
Jo laughed and nodded.
"It's just… please don't take this the wrong way." He surveyed her fraying flannel shirt and clean, worn blue jeans. "You don't look like you would."
Jo shrugged. "I grew up hearing Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, Zeppelin, Ozzy, Iron Maiden. You know, the good stuff."
Eddie grinned. "The good stuff."
"Yeah. My mom's got good taste."
"Your mom?!"
Jo laughed. "Yep, my mama. She's…" Jo tipped her head back against the tree she sat in front of and sighed, trying to keep the water rising in her eyes dammed back. "She's…amazing. We found Metallica together in our favorite record store back home one day. Smuggled a Kill 'Em All tape home in her purse and blasted it in our shit apartment when my dad was at work." She laughed, though her lips trembled. "Our neighbors wanted to kill us." She hated how her voice had just cracked.
"Did she not… did she not come with you?"
Jo shook her head. "Divorce."
"God. I'm sorry."
Jo stared at her feet, everything in her squirming, scrambling for a response, or a quick change in subject. She'd heard versions of those same words a thousand times over the past year or so. It took her a moment, and looking up to see the warmth and concern in Eddie's eyes, to realize he'd meant them. He'd actually meant them.
"...Thanks."
It was pathetic, but it was the only response she could think of. She watched the wind pick up a pile of leaves and send them into the air. The pages of Lord of the Rings rustled overhead. A few were beginning to dry.
"What did…" Eddie started. "What did she think of Ride the Lightning? Your mom?"
The tension began to melt from her shoulders, and Jo smiled. "She loved it. Said it's a masterpiece."
"She got a favorite track?"
"She couldn't pick."
"Perfectly acceptable answer," Eddie said. "What about you?"
"Oh, I…" Jo felt herself shrinking inside again. "I haven't heard it yet."
Eddie drew in a dramatic gasp. "No!"
A nervous laugh bubbled up out of Jo. "Didn't have time to go get a copy, or the money, with the move and all. I asked my dad if I could go get it, but… he, uh, he said no."
Eddie's brow furrowed. Slowly a smile lit his face, the same determination returning to his eyes that he'd had when searching for a tree branch earlier. He yanked his worn black backpack into his lap, shoved his arm in, and fished around for a second without looking. Jo heard cassette cases clicking together. He pulled one out, looked at it, grunted, and shoved it back in.
"You've got a Walkman, right?"
Jo nodded.
"'Kay." He pulled out another case just to frown at it and shove it back then. "Never thought I'd do that to Ozzy, but here we are."
Jo laughed. It was getting easier to laugh.
"Hold on…" He dug for a few more seconds, yanked up one more tape, and grinned victoriously. "Gotcha."
To Jo's astonishment, he held it out to her.
"Oh… I, uh… you don't have to–"
"You're living an existence without Creeping Death, Jo. Yes I do."
Her heart thumped hard in her chest as she reached out and took the tape. Jo stared at the cover art, traced the bolts of blue lightning cutting across it, ran a thumb across Metallica's logo.
"What's the catch?" she asked.
"None," Eddie said. "Just gotta tell me what you think once you've heard it a few times. Besides." A gentle smile eased across his face as he bumped his shoulder into hers. "Give you and your mom something to talk about."
"Really?"
"Really."
Jo didn't know what to say, or what to make of any of this. She hardly knew what to do with herself. She half-expected to wake up in the middle of whatever class she was missing.
"You good?"
She shuffled through the tangle of feelings inside. She missed her mom–she always missed her mom–and the sting of what happened at lunch still ache. But something else had flooded in to soothe her frazzled nerves, even if she expected it to vanish like steam over a pot at any second:
Hope.
Maybe… maybe she wasn't going to be alone through this.
Her hand tightened on the tape in her hand. She looked up at Eddie and smiled.
"Yeah." It was foreign to actually mean it for once. "I think so."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Good." He drummed on the bag in his lap. "Good, good, good."
Jo slid the tape into the front pocket of her backpack and zipped it shut.
"Thanks, Eddie."
"Don't mention it," he said. "Now if you tell me you play D and D, I'm gonna be spooked."
Jo laughed. "Never gotten to, unfortunately." She hugged her knees to her chest and looked at him. "But I'd love to learn sometime. Really love to. It sounds like fun."
"If you like Tolkien, you'd love D and D. Be more than happy to teach you. The guys and I are looking for new members for our party. You should come. It's a good time."
Jo nodded. "I'd like that."
They both fell quiet, but both still smiled to themselves. Eddie started to shift, and for a second, Jo feared he was getting up to leave.
"Could you, uh…" Jo fumbled.
Eddie leaned back on one hand and looked at her. "Could I what?"
She hoped the shadows hid the warmth rising to her cheeks. "Is there… it's probably gonna be hard without it in front of you, but…" She fidgeted with her thumbs.
Eddie's eyes sparkled. "You wanna know more about D and D, dontcha?"
The nerves that had risen up inside Jo dissipated with a relieved laugh as Eddie enthusiastically launched into an explanation of the world of Dungeons and Dragons, everything from character creation to his favorite campaign. She wanted so badly to join in on the fun his party was clearly having, but her father would never allow that.
If he found out about this interaction at all, after what had happened that morning….
Jo wasn't sure what he would do. So… maybe he didn't need to know at all.
"...oh, and my party members are also my bandmates…."
Yeah. He definitely didn't need to know.
"You play guitar, right?"
Eddie grinned. "How'd you guess?"
Jo reached out with one finger and tapped the pick hanging from Eddie's neck. He chuckled.
"Dead giveaway, huh?"
"Yup."
"Well then." He sat up, peering at her from under his bangs. "Look for Corroded Coffin at the Hideout. Every Tuesday, we're there. We do mostly covers now, but we're starting to put together some original stuff, for better or worse. Don't think it'd hold a candle to Madison Square Garden–"
"I think it would." Jo grinned at him. "Seeing as I'll actually remember the guys who played."
Another thing she'd have to figure out how to work around her father. The list was getting longer–
I'll figure it out.
Eddie chuckled. "I'll be looking for you, then." He looked at his watch, and his eyes popped. "Shit."
"What?"
He shot to his feet. "It's ten past three!"
"Really?!"
"Yeah!"
Eddie held out his hand to her and helped her up. Jo picked up her bag, glanced at Eddie, and they both burst out laughing.
"How did that happen–"
"You're the one with the watch on, Eddie!"
"And I had better things to do, so I didn't check it!"
Jo grinned as she headed back down the trail, Eddie by her side. They'd made it halfway across the football field when he suddenly stopped.
"Aren't you, uh, forgetting–"
Jo gasped. "Right!" She turned to run back to the woods, shaking her head and laughing. "I'm glad you said something!"
"I'll see you tomorrow, Jo," he called after her. "Let me know what you think of that tape!"
"I definitely will!"
Jo came back into the woods with a smile on her face. It took her several minutes and some creative maneuvering to wrestle the branch down, to lower the book back into her hands.
She checked it over. It was dry.
