“This place is nice,” I said, patting the giraffe and hoping the paint wasn’t wet.

“This is my favorite place in Greenville,” Berry said, “because when I was a kid it was the only place in Greenville that didn’t seem boring. And even though no one else wants to psychedelic mini putt, I still do.”

“I’m glad you’re keeping it spruced up.”

Berry looked around. “It relaxes me. There’s a slide and stuff over there, too. Which I’ll eventually do in green.”

“Well, I’m always down to do a psychedelic paint job,” I said, kicking my ball into the hole. “You have my number.”

It was like a little Garden of Eden in Greenville. Or. . .no. I guess that doesn’t work because you get cast out of the Garden of Eden, right? It was a secret place, a world that Berry made inside of Greenville that was just her world.

Maybe she just wanted me to know it was possible.

“You have every right to hate this town.” Berry leaned against the Technicolor panda statue wearing a wizard hat. “But I’m really glad you’re here, Anne Shirley.”

I wished I could say the same. But at least I was happy right at that moment, in that individual spot in Greenville, which was something. The sun finally set. The lights from some building in the distance flashed on and cast shadows all around the mini putt.

On the tenth hole, Berry finally confessed. “Okay, so, full disclosure. And, like, don’t be mad. But I feel like we’re going to be friends, so I, like, have to be honest.”

My stomach dropped. “What?”

“Don’t be mad.”

“No promises.”

“Like, I know a lot about it but”—Berry pulled her shoulders up—“I actually hate disco.”

“YOU WHAT?”

“I mean I’m not all disco sucks, obviously.” Berry shrugged. “But, like, I think there’s better music. And if you ever meet my dad he will tell you I make fun of his disco records. So I felt like I should just be honest with you. So you don’t think I’m a big disco liar.”

“Disco is the best!”

Berry sighed. “It’s repetitive and the lyrics are terrible.”

I mock-fainted to the green turf. “This is a blow, Berry, I’m gonna be honest, it’s a real blow. Like on today of all days. To hit me with this. Kind of uncool.”

Berry snorted.

I sat up. “What do you like?”

“Punk.” Berry counted off on her fingers. “Um. Country. I like some old nineties rock?”

I shook my head in exaggerated despair. “Say it isn’t so.”

Berry stepped up onto the back of a concrete pony with no ears that looked like a dragon. “Can we still be friends?”