Chapter Eleven: Atticus’ Secret Place:

Summer would be over in three weeks. Atticus had see his secret place once again. He found this place when he was seven years old. One day, he was wandering the neighborhood, looking for something to do. He hadn’t met Kelly at the time. He still lived with his mother. On that day in July, Atticus made his way to the park. He didn’t appear interested in the other children playing around. The boy didn’t know how to interact with them at the time. His mother made him feel cut off. At the time, he just wanted to be alone. There was a small, narrow path that led out of the park. Atticus always wondered what was down there. Sometimes, he would look down the path. Today, he felt braver.

Atticus took a deep breath. He began his walk down the thick brush. Already, he felt closed in. His eyes scanned his tight surroundings. So many branches around him. They started to scratch his skin and tangle up in his clothes. Atticus pushed himself forward. The scratches didn’t faze him. He had to keep going. The anticipation kept building. How long was this path? He counted up the steps. The boy pictured what was on the other side.

Atticus could hear running water up ahead. He pushed himself to keep going. Faster. Faster. Faster. Faster.

Atticus came out to a land of dark green. He looked down at his feet. The boy noticed a small stream at his feet. He leaned down and let the water run of his fingers. Small chills ran down his spine. Birds sang over his head. When Attics looked up, he saw bright green vegetation around him. His little eyes widened.

“Wow,” he whispered. Atticus crawled out of the tunnel of branches. The scratches couldn’t distract from the beauty around him. Atticus pinched himself in the cheek. He had never seen such beauty before in his life. This couldn’t feel real. He watched further into the green. The boy could hear angels calling to him. This had been here all along?

Atticus lay down on the spongey moss. He could barely see the sky. The trees seemed to go on forever and ever. The boy wished he could live here forever. The softness of summer lulled him to sleep.

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Years later, Atticus took Aoi to the tunnel.

“Are you sure this okay?” she asked.

“Yes!” he insisted. “Come on!” Atticus took her by the hand. He pulled her down the branch-filled tunnel.

“Ah! The branches are scratching me!” Aoi cried.

“It’s okay,” Atticus said. “Just keep up with me, okay?”

“Mhmm,” she whimpered.

“We’re almost here,” he said. Once they made it out of the tunnel, Aoi’s little face lit up. The hidden grove hadn’t changed in years. The girl gasped.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Atticus asked.

“Yes!” Aoi said. They held hands underneath the tall trees.