adelaide

adelaide did not believe her mother when she said they were going to live somewhere that peaches grew in the wintertime. it was just ridiculous, the thought that peach trees would bloom in the snow. mama said it didn't snow there, either, and adelaide just laughed at that, but the further they drove, the hotter it got in the buick until adelaide couldn't stand it and rolled down the window a bit. "okay back there?" daddy asked. "yeah," replied adelaide, wondering how much farther before they got to this wonderland of winter peaches.

when daddy parked at the rest area, adelaide rolled up her window then swung out the car door and punched down the lock stem at the same time. it was a move she'd been practicing after she saw wendy o'rouke leave her boyfriend's car that same way. adelaide was practicing for the day she had a boyfriend of her own, a boy who'd drive her around and call her "addie" and carry her books. she wanted him to admire how she exited his car, to appreciate how she swung out gracefully but didn't get handprints on the window or the paint job. adelaide knew things like windows and paint were important to boys, just as sure as she knew that boys didn't notice short, four-eyed girls like her, just as sure as she knew that peach trees didn't bloom in winter, no matter what mama said.

as she let the car door shut and stepped to the sidewalk, that's when she saw them, right there in the strip of grass between the welcome center and the parking lot - a row of peach trees, in full bloom.