The Boy I Love by Nina de Gramont Page B

Tim, and his arm slid off my shoulders.
    â€œHi, Mom,” Tim said. “This is my friend Wren.”
    â€œHello, Mrs. Greenlaw,” I said.
    Mrs. Greenlaw knelt by the pool and held her hand out to me. I reached over and shook it, even though I was dripping wet. “You’re the girl who hurt her hand,” she said, looking at my gauze glove. “How’s it healing, honey?” She had one of those deep, melodic North Carolina accents, like she’d grown up close to the mountains.
    â€œIt’s much better,” I told her.
    â€œI’m so glad. Would you like to come back to the house and have dinner with us?”
    â€œI’d love to, ma’am, but I’m expected home. Thank you for asking me, though.”
    Mrs. Greenlaw stood up and smoothed out her skirt, even though it hadn’t wrinkled a bit. I knew from Tim that she worked in real estate. I pictured my own mother with her baggy Levi’s and dirty fingernails and tried to imagine what it would be like to live in a house with someone who looked so picture perfect.
    â€œHoney,” Mrs. Greenlaw said. Tim and I looked up at the same time, since that was what she’d been calling both of us. “Why don’t you take my car and drive Wren home? It’s almost time for dinner, and I’m sure you both have homework.”
    Mrs. Greenlaw’s car smelled like perfume. It was the cleanest I’d ever seen, not a single crumb or envelope or CD case anywhere in sight. I asked Tim if it was new.
    â€œNo,” he said. “She has to keep it clean because she drives clients around.”
    â€œI could never keep anything this clean,” I said.
    When we pulled up to my house I saw Aunt Holly’s car, but the only person outside was Mom, on the front stoop, talking on the phone. I said good-bye to Tim, then went over and sat down next to her. My conversation with Tim had made me feel a little warmer toward my own mother. I could tell she was wrapping up the call, with lots of “okays” and “thank yous.”
    â€œGood news,” she said to me, when she hung up. “A man up in Virginia is going to adopt Vixen and Maurice. He’s going to come get them this weekend.”
    â€œWhat man?” I said, amazed. People didn’t just pop out of the blue to adopt horses. It had always been Mom’s strictest rule not to let anyone take a horse until she inspected their facility.
    â€œOh, a man who just bought a farm and wants a couple horses. He sounds really nice.” She tried to make her voice all bright and enthusiastic, but the minute she finished talking she burst into tears.
    â€œOh, Mom.” I put my arms around her. If it made my heart hurt—thinking how it would be these next months, watching trailers come to take our horses one by one—I couldn’t imagine how it was for my mother.
    From inside the house I could hear Dad and Hollytalking. Their voices sounded light and airy. I’d noticed lately that a change had come over Dad. You’d never guess he’d just lost his job and his family home. He looked like the whole weight of the world had been lifted. He had this little spring in his step, and Holly’s voice sounded happier than I’d heard her in months.
    â€œI get it,” Mom said, like she’d been reading my mind. “I understand why it’s a relief for them. But I just can’t be happy about it. I can’t be.”
    â€œIt feels like the end of the world,” I said, though I wish I hadn’t, because Mom started in crying all over again.
    *   *   *
    Lately, in American history, Allie sat next to Devon instead of me. But on Wednesday I decided I was sick of the whole thing and plopped down right beside her. Devon wasn’t there yet, and neither was Ms. Durand.
    â€œHey,” I said to Allie, like nothing had ever happened.
    â€œHey,” she said, like she didn’t sound too