wave. “Be good!”
We watch her find a seat on the bus. We watch the bus pull out. We stay until we can’t see her anymore.
Erin seems so hopeful. Like when she comes back, everything will be exactly the same way she left it.
Like nothing will change while she’s gone.
21
“How does it always know?” Blake marvels.
“Exactly!” I yell. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”
Blake is so hooked on our weekly horoscopes. We’ve even established a new ritual for the summer. Blake comes over every Monday and we read each other our horoscopes. They can be a little tricky without school as a frame of reference, though.
Around here, you could totally avoid everyone all summer if you wanted to. It can be really desolate unless you make an effort to get together with people. The only people I’ll probably see all summer are my parents, Blake, Danielle, and everyone at my summer job. I quit swimming class when school ended. I had a minor meltdown in my last class and made an executive decision to give up. So I’ve been pretty isolated. Which is a good thing.
We live in farm country. Not that we live on actual farms or anything. Well, a few kids from school have parents who are farmers, but they live in regular houses. It’s just that New Jersey is called the Garden State because of all its farms. We have a lot of roadside markets selling fruit and vegetables. There are places open to the public that grow berries and pumpkins. I work part-time at Bear Creek Berry Patch over on Dark Moon Road. They grow all different types of raspberries. I didn’t even know there was more than one kind of raspberry before I started working there last summer. My job is to help customers who come to pick their own berries. I also do some berry picking for the owners. It’s cool because I can ride my bike there. Driving is something I only do when I have to. I hate contaminating the atmosphere with more pollution, plus wasting all that nonrenewable fuel makes me want to cry.
“This horoscope thing must be magic,” Blake says.
“Or fate.”
“As in, it’s fate that they always know what to write?”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“Hmm.” Blake scoots over to the other side of the couch. That area is closer to the ceiling fan, so it’s like half a degree cooler over there. As usual, our central air is more like a random trickle of air that’s not nearly cold enough.
I go, “How are we supposed to play now?”
“I can still reach.”
Some people might think I’m a loser for hiding in my living room, playing 500 on a gorgeous summer day. That is just not true. It’s actually a smart way to pass the time. This way, I’m not tempted to do other things. Other things that are potentially harmful.
Blake goes, “How’s the berry business so far?”
“Oh, you know. Booming as usual.”
“What’s my favorite kind of raspberry that’s—”
“Taylor.”
“Yes! When are you bringing me some of those?”
“We don’t pick them until August.”
“That’s just wrong.”
“When are you bringing me your first professional creation?”
“Patience, my dear, patience.” Blake got a summer internship at a glassblowers’ studio. He got into glassblowing a few months ago. He saw these amazing glasses in a gift shop in town and asked where they came from. It turns out they were made a few towns over, by real glassblowers. Blake is psyched to be learning from them, but his dad is less than thrilled. He’d rather see Blake get a paying job and start earning his own money. They had a huge fight about it. I really thought Blake’s dad was going to force him to work at Big Guy Burger. Somehow, Blake convinced his dad to let him take the internship. It makes me sad that his dad had to be convinced.
“Is your dad still in a huffufle about it?” I ask.
“Oh, he’s huffufled, all right. Imagine if he knew I’m gay on top of making zero bank? The horror .”
I wish there was a way for Blake to tell his
We watch her find a seat on the bus. We watch the bus pull out. We stay until we can’t see her anymore.
Erin seems so hopeful. Like when she comes back, everything will be exactly the same way she left it.
Like nothing will change while she’s gone.
21
“How does it always know?” Blake marvels.
“Exactly!” I yell. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”
Blake is so hooked on our weekly horoscopes. We’ve even established a new ritual for the summer. Blake comes over every Monday and we read each other our horoscopes. They can be a little tricky without school as a frame of reference, though.
Around here, you could totally avoid everyone all summer if you wanted to. It can be really desolate unless you make an effort to get together with people. The only people I’ll probably see all summer are my parents, Blake, Danielle, and everyone at my summer job. I quit swimming class when school ended. I had a minor meltdown in my last class and made an executive decision to give up. So I’ve been pretty isolated. Which is a good thing.
We live in farm country. Not that we live on actual farms or anything. Well, a few kids from school have parents who are farmers, but they live in regular houses. It’s just that New Jersey is called the Garden State because of all its farms. We have a lot of roadside markets selling fruit and vegetables. There are places open to the public that grow berries and pumpkins. I work part-time at Bear Creek Berry Patch over on Dark Moon Road. They grow all different types of raspberries. I didn’t even know there was more than one kind of raspberry before I started working there last summer. My job is to help customers who come to pick their own berries. I also do some berry picking for the owners. It’s cool because I can ride my bike there. Driving is something I only do when I have to. I hate contaminating the atmosphere with more pollution, plus wasting all that nonrenewable fuel makes me want to cry.
“This horoscope thing must be magic,” Blake says.
“Or fate.”
“As in, it’s fate that they always know what to write?”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“Hmm.” Blake scoots over to the other side of the couch. That area is closer to the ceiling fan, so it’s like half a degree cooler over there. As usual, our central air is more like a random trickle of air that’s not nearly cold enough.
I go, “How are we supposed to play now?”
“I can still reach.”
Some people might think I’m a loser for hiding in my living room, playing 500 on a gorgeous summer day. That is just not true. It’s actually a smart way to pass the time. This way, I’m not tempted to do other things. Other things that are potentially harmful.
Blake goes, “How’s the berry business so far?”
“Oh, you know. Booming as usual.”
“What’s my favorite kind of raspberry that’s—”
“Taylor.”
“Yes! When are you bringing me some of those?”
“We don’t pick them until August.”
“That’s just wrong.”
“When are you bringing me your first professional creation?”
“Patience, my dear, patience.” Blake got a summer internship at a glassblowers’ studio. He got into glassblowing a few months ago. He saw these amazing glasses in a gift shop in town and asked where they came from. It turns out they were made a few towns over, by real glassblowers. Blake is psyched to be learning from them, but his dad is less than thrilled. He’d rather see Blake get a paying job and start earning his own money. They had a huge fight about it. I really thought Blake’s dad was going to force him to work at Big Guy Burger. Somehow, Blake convinced his dad to let him take the internship. It makes me sad that his dad had to be convinced.
“Is your dad still in a huffufle about it?” I ask.
“Oh, he’s huffufled, all right. Imagine if he knew I’m gay on top of making zero bank? The horror .”
I wish there was a way for Blake to tell his
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