From a Distant Star by Karen McQuestion Page B

for you and you can see it whenever you want.”
    Lucas thought for a moment and then said, “Okay.”
    When we got to the Walkers’, I pulled the car around back, threw it into park, and popped the trunk. Eric jumped out and disappeared into the barn with my discovery. When Mrs. Walker came through the back door, the three of us were walking toward the house.
    “What’s going on?” she asked, suspicious. It was hard to get anything past her.
    “I found a hubcap on the road for my collection,” Eric said. “I just stuck it in with my stuff.”
    “No, I mean why are you back so soon? Is Lucas okay?” She rushed down the steps and put a hand on Lucas’s forehead, the international sign of mother-caring.
    “He’s fine,” I assured her. “After we ate at Scotty’s, he looked a little tired, so we decided to skip the ball game.”
    But she wasn’t done fussing. “Do you want to go to bed, Lucas? Or just rest on the couch? I could get you something to drink.” She turned to me. “I want to make sure he stays hydrated.”
    “Something to drink,” he said, and for the first time I really noticed what Eric had mentioned. Like a beginner trying to speak a foreign language, Lucas was repeating what we said rather than coming up with his own words.
    “Lemonade?” Mrs. Walker said brightly. “I just made a fresh pitcher.”
    “That sounds good,” I said. “Can I have a glass too?”
    “Of course, Emma.” Our early return seemed to have softened her attitude toward me. “Why don’t you kids wait on the front porch and I’ll bring out the drinks?”
    “I’m good, Mom,” Eric said, brushing past us and heading toward the house. “I’ve got some stuff to do.”
    Mrs. Walker sighed as she watched her younger son bound up the steps and go inside. Eric found interacting with people draining. I knew he was going to his room to be alone where he could recharge. “Thanks for taking Eric with you,” she said. “I wish he would get out more but he seems happy just staying home and building things with his junk pile.”
    “We didn’t mind,” I said. “Eric’s cool.”
    “That’s nice of you to say,” she said.
    “No, I mean it.”
    But Mrs. Walker didn’t look convinced. It gave me a new perspective on what it must be like to be Eric. Poor kid. Someday, he might carve an impressive niche in the world, but for now he was just Lucas Walker’s awkward little brother.
    Mrs. Walker went into the house, while Lucas and I walked around to the front and sat down on the wicker love seat on their front porch. The Walkers had planters with red geraniums on eitherside of the flagstone path and an American flag proudly waving from one of the porch columns. Their house was picture perfect. When Mrs. Walker came out with a tray holding iced glasses and set them on the wicker table in front of us, it was like a scene out of a lemonade commercial.
    “Anything else?” she asked. “I can get some cheese and crackers. Or raisins?”
    “I’m good, thanks,” I said.
    “Good, thanks,” Lucas parroted.
    “Okay, well, I’ll let you kids have some privacy,” she said, brushing her hands on the front of her shirt. “When the mosquitoes start biting, that will be your cue to come in.” She went into the house and shut the door behind her.
    Her mosquito comment told me that she expected us to come inside when it got dark. As soon as the sun went down, the mosquitoes came out in full force. The sun was sinking, so I’d have to act quickly. For the first time in a long time, I had a chance to talk to Lucas uninterrupted and I was going to use that time to get to the bottom of this.
    I handed him a glass of lemonade and took one for myself, taking a sip before I asked, “How’s the lemonade, Lucas?”
    He looked at the glass and then at me. “Good.”
    “I’ve always thought that lemons are the sweetest fruit, don’t you think?”
    Lucas stared at the glass as if the answer might be somewhere within the liquid.