Words of Stone by Kevin Henkes Page A

that’s why it was powerful. The fox represented her secret life with Blaze’s family, the life that played out in her head.
    There were occasional periods of silence as they rode. But they weren’t awkward. They were breaks in the conversation in which time stood still, in which everything was suspended except Joselle’s watchful eye. Even so, the ride was going much too quickly for Joselle. She wanted this day to last.
    It was Blaze who broke a particularly long silence as they neared Floy’s house. “Here,” Blaze whispered, his voice as quiet as insects’ wings. “You found this. It really belongs to you.” He gave Joselle the lucky penny. “And you don’t even have to tell me what your wish is.”
    The penny floated on the sweaty creases of Joselle’s palm. She was touched. She pushed the penny into her pocket with the fox. Then she opened her mouth and tapped out “When You Wish Upon a Star.” Her fingers smelled metallic.
    Blaze joined in on his own teeth. They played it together, smiling, until the van pulled up to Floy’s front porch.

18 JOSELLE
    â€œH ow was your day?” Floy asked, head poised, waiting. She had been leafing through a magazine. It lay open on her lap.
    â€œIt was the best day of my life,” Joselle said. She flung herself onto the sofa, her arms spread out over her head like a giant V. She sighed dreamily.
    â€œI’m glad you had a good time,” Floy said. “Tell me about it.”
    Joselle lay motionless on the sofa. She couldn’t tell Floy. If she did, wouldn’t Floy feel terrible? Wouldn’t it bother her that her granddaughter could have more fun with someone else’s family than she ever could with her own? “I can’t exactly explain it,” Joselle said finally. “I mean, it wasn’t that great. It was okay.” Her lip flickered. She forced a laugh and got up to go to the bathroom. “I’ve had better days. For sure.”
    Floy closed her magazine. “I can’t keep up with your thoughts,” she said.
    In Joselle’s dream the moon was blue. And then it became a penny. And then it vanished. She sat up in the middle of the night with Blaze’s words on the tip of her tongue: “You wouldn’t lie to me?” And her answer haunted her: “Never.”
    She rose from the sofa and walked to the front window. There was no moon. It was raining. Water streamed down the window as though she were under the sea. She felt regretful. Joselle pulled her purse out from beneath the sofa. She searched for her four-color pen.
    While the slow steady rain tap-tap-tapped against the house, Joselle darkened the ball-point-pen tattoos on her thigh. When they faded, she would darken them again. She would keep them as a reminder. She would keep them until she told Blaze the truth.
    About everything.
    The words of stone.
    Her father.
    Her mother.
    The tiny fox.
    Joselle placed the lucky penny under her pillow. She wished that when she told Blaze the truth, he would forgive her. She wished that she had a million lucky pennies; she felt she needed that much luck.
    When Joselle woke up again, it was still raining. She put on her bikini and ran up and down the front sidewalk several times. The rain chilled her, and goose bumps sprouted on her arms and legs. But she felt much better, exhilarated.
    She came inside, toweled off, and wrapped herself around a steaming cup of tea. Floy’s door was still closed to the morning, so Joselle was very quiet. She wanted to get out of the house before Floy got up. She pulled her extra-large white T-shirt on over her damp bikini. The shirt fell to her knees, covering the tattoos easily. She wore her new sweater, her dangly rhinestone earrings, her red rubber thongs. She brushed her hair back into a ponytail as Claire had done yesterday. Joselle’s ponytail wasn’t nearly as long as Claire’s, but she thought it