“I dig that deep, baby. I mean, life is so whack!” Chester figured this was what Regan had been getting at, but wasn’t sure. If he was to have any chance of pinning her before the harvest dance this ploy had better work.
But it didn’t work, at least not right away. Regan moved to the farm down by the old cider mill that August, just before school started. For a time, Chester didn’t see much of her. Then one day, he happened upon her while crossing the covered bridge.
“Regan, where have you been?”
“I’ve been shooting pigeons down by the dry goods store. Do you like pigeon shootin’?”
It must be a trick question, Chester thought. He loved shooting pigeons, but figured Regan would hate it. She was just testing him. “No, don’t reckon I do,” he said. But Regan did like shooting pigeons and when she went out to the empty lot behind the dry goods store with her .22, she felt lonelier than ever.