The Bookmark Goodbye

“I should have said more than ‘See you tomorrow,’” Ivy whispered, sitting on the library steps with a blank bookmark.

The library door clicked shut behind her. On the sidewalk, her younger cousin, Max, was lining up three little pebbles beside a crack in the pavement.

“Is that a road?” Ivy asked.

“It’s a pebble parade,” Max said. He nudged the smallest pebble forward. “This one is shy.”

Ivy looked down at the cream paper bookmark in her hands. It had a blue ribbon at the top. Her best friend, June, had moved far away that morning. Their families had been busy carrying boxes and saying quick goodbyes. Ivy had only managed, “See you tomorrow,” even though she knew June wouldn’t be nearby.

Now Ivy wanted to send her a goodbye message. The library had an outgoing mail slot beside its front door. Ivy had a small envelope and June’s new address, copied from a note from June’s mom.

“I’m going to write something that makes June know how much I’ll miss her,” Ivy said.

Max sat beside her. “Can I help?”

“You can hold the bookmark still.”

Ivy wrote, “Dear June, I hope your new—” She stopped. New what? New house? New school? She rubbed the words away until the paper looked fuzzy.

“Maybe I should say, ‘I wish you could stay.’” She wrote it, stared at it, and crossed it out.

Max pushed the shy pebble up the step. “It made it!”

Ivy tried again. “Dear June, I will always—” She paused and crossed that out, too.

A librarian came to the door and turned the sign to CLOSING SOON. The mail carrier would come before long. Ivy’s bookmark was still blank except for smudges.

“What if it has to be perfect?” Ivy said. The ribbon slipped through her fingers, and the bookmark fluttered onto her lap.

Ivy picked up the bookmark and brushed off a tiny bit of dust. She could hear the library clock ticking through the door. Soon the mail carrier would come, and June’s letter might have to wait another day.

“I can’t think of the perfect thing,” Ivy said. She wrote, “You are the best friend in the world,” then crossed it out. “It sounds like a contest.”

Max leaned close. “What do you most want June to remember?”

Ivy stopped moving her pencil.

For a moment, she saw the old library reading room. She and June had found books about faraway places and tried to read them upside down. June had pointed at a dragon and said it was eating a sandwich. Ivy had insisted it wore a hat made of soup. They had laughed until the librarian came over to see what was going on.

“I want her to remember that,” Ivy said. “We couldn’t read a thing, and we made up the silliest story.”

Max giggled. “Was the dragon’s sandwich upside down, too?”

“Probably,” Ivy said.

She turned the bookmark sideways and began to draw. First came two round heads with their hair pointing toward the floor. Then she drew two open books and a dragon wearing a soup-pot hat. June’s hair had a little curl over one ear, just like in real life. Ivy’s own nose looked like a small button.

She turned the bookmark right side up and wrote beneath the picture: “I’ll miss you. I hope we meet again.”

The words were simple, and they were hers. This time, she did not cross them out.

Max held the envelope while Ivy copied June’s address from the note. Ivy slid the bookmark inside and tucked the flap closed.

The librarian opened the door. “The mail carrier is here,” she said.

Ivy walked to the outgoing mail slot. For one second, she held the envelope against her chest. Then she slipped it through. It made a small, satisfying shuff as it fell into the mail bin.

“Goodbye, June,” Ivy whispered. Then she and Max stepped out onto the sidewalk together.

The evening air felt cool on Ivy’s cheeks. Max hopped over the crack where his pebble parade had started.

“Tell me the upside-down story again,” he said.

Ivy smiled. “The dragon with the soup hat?”

“The very one.”

She told him how she and June had tried to read their books upside down. Max laughed softly, and Ivy laughed, too. The sound came out small and easy, like a secret they were carrying home.

They passed the library windows. Inside, a librarian stacked books on a cart. Ivy imagined June opening the envelope someday and recognizing their silly drawing.

“I wish June lived closer,” Ivy said.

“Me too,” Max replied. “But she’ll get your bookmark.”

At the corner, Max held out his hand. Ivy took it, and together they crossed to the other sidewalk. Their steps made a quiet tap-tap on the pavement.

At home, Ivy set the note with June’s address on her desk. The bookmark was gone, but the funny memory stayed with her. She changed into her pajamas, brushed her teeth, and climbed into bed. She remembered Max’s laugh and the tiny shuff of the envelope dropping into the mail bin.

Whenever the envelope reached June, she would have a little piece of their library afternoon. For tonight, Ivy closed her eyes and pictured two friends, two books, and one very silly dragon wearing a soup-pot hat.