Page 100 of Truck Me
Lia and I finished setting up all the displays with some time to spare, so I’m taking a walk through the halls to see what else is here before we open the doors.
I didn’t expect all this. There’s every game you’d typically find at a carnival, like ring toss, balloon darts, and whack-a-mole. I can’t believe they actually have a whack-a-mole game in one of the old classrooms.
There are arts and crafts, face painting, quilts for sale, and the knitting ladies are set up in a circle knitting hats and scarfs. There are even a few women with spinning wheels. Spinning wheels! I didn’t even know that was a thing. It looks so cool I have to get a closer look.
I recognize Lina Lange right away. Her beauty is unmistakable. I’d say she’s more beautiful now than she was when we were kids. She was in my graduating class, though we weren’t close. She was always a bit of a loner, but she seemed nice enough.
Her long dark hair is pulled back in a high ponytail. Her face is clean with minimal makeup. She doesn’t need it. Her natural beauty always shines through. The biggest difference in her appearance is the tattoos. Even with her t-shirt on, I can tell her tattoos cover both arms and shoulders completely.
“Hi, Lina.” I give her a friendly smile, hoping she sees it for what it is. Friendly. Lina’s one of those girls that was born with a resting bitch face. Everyone always assumed she was angry at the world, but I suspect there’s a lot more to her than that. “May I watch what you’re doing?”
She lifts her gaze in surprise as if she didn’t expect anyone to talk to her. For anyone who doesn’t know Lina, her expression would surely cause them to retreat. Her light blue gaze is intense and if I didn’t know her, I’d think she was about to shoot ice daggers through my heart.
Then she softens and nods. “Do you knit?” Her voice is raspy and a little horse as if this is the first time she’s spoken all day.
“I do. It’s been a while but seeing all this beautiful yarn is making me want to start up again.” I pick up a hank from the basket on the table next to her. There’s a sign in front of it that says $30 each. The colors are gorgeous shades of deep purple with hints of shimmer mixed in. It’s uneven, with thick and thin sections throughout. “Did you make these?”
She nods and keeps pumping the foot pedal on her spinning wheel and feeding clumps of fiber into it. It’s amazing to watch the loose fibers in her hands come together in a thin, single strand of yarn.
“Is one hank enough to make a project? Like a scarf or hat?”
She pauses what she’s doing and studies me with a narrow gaze. Then she shifts her eyes to the hank I’m holding. “Not that one. You’d need two.”
She digs around in the basket and pulls out a second hank with similar colors to the one I’m holding, only slightly lighter. “Those two together would make a beautiful scarf.”
I smile and take the second hank from her. “Yes, they would. Can I buy them?”
Surprise once again mars her expression. “Do you have a ball winder?”
I raise a brow. “What’s that?”
“You can’t knit from a hank. It needs to be wound into a ball. I can do that for you if you like.”
“That’d be wonderful. Thank you, Lina.”
She pushes her spinning wheel to the side, letting the fiber she’s spinning drop to the floor. The end starts to unravel but she doesn’t seem the least bit concerned. Taking the two hanks, she heads to a table in the back of the room where she stretches the hank out on an unfamiliar tool that holds it in a tight ring while she hooks a free end of the yarn to the ball winder.
She moves quickly and in a matter of minutes, both hanks have been wound into small balls ready to knit. She places them in a small bag and then pulls her phone out of her back pocket. After pushing a few buttons, she looks up at me. “Sixty dollars.”
I hand her my credit card to complete the transaction.
“Thanks,” I say when she hands my card back to me. “I can’t wait to find a pattern to use.”
She stares at me again, like I confuse her. I think back to when we were kids and wonder if I was ever mean to her or did something to make her uncomfortable. I don’t recall anything involving me, but I remember other kids picking on her. Her family never had much, and her brother caused trouble at times but nothing specific rings a bell.
She clears her throat before she takes her seat again. “There are some patterns on the community center’s knitting group page. Might find something there that you like.”
“Thanks, I’ll check that out.” I check the time. It’s getting close to the opening. “Well, I better get back to my booth. Thanks again for this. I can’t wait to knit it up.”
I quickly make my way back to the gymnasium, and to my surprise, Grams is at my booth talking to Lia. Even more surprising, they both seem friendly with each other. Grams says something that makes Lia laugh.
“Hey,” I say when I reach the table. “Did I miss anything?”
“Nope.” Lia wipes her eyes. Was she laughing to the point of tears? “Grams was just telling me about a prank Ash pulled on Liam. Apparently, he covered Liam’s bedroom in aluminum foil. Like, the entire room.”
“What?” I huff out a laugh.
“Yep.” Grams shakes her head. “Damn boy even covered Liam’s clothes with it. I don’t even want to think about how much he spent on supplies. A complete waste, if you ask me, but those boys never know when to stop. But enough about them and their nonsense. Looks like I’ve got some actual competition this year.” Grams gives me a wink and a smile. “These cookies look delicious.”