nod.
“I thought she told me you weren’t coming for a few weeks.”
I want to tell him he misunderstood her, but then I’d have to explain how I only pepper-sprayed the principal a few days ago, and I have no desire to share my life story with a strange boy. I look around for a ladder or rope, but don’t see any. Changing the subject I ask, “Did you, um, fall into the hole?”
He shakes his head. “Good acoustics down here. Nice echo effect off the dirt walls. And more privacy than at my house. I live across the street. Your aunt lets me practice over here.”
“Practice for what?”
“For my bar mitzvah. It’s in a month. I’ll, you know, become a man. According to tradition.”
That explains the foreign language. There are a few Jewishkids in my grade, but I hadn’t been invited to any of their bar mitzvahs. “Well, I should, uh, let you get back to it.”
“Wait,” he says. “You don’t have to go. I mean, if you don’t want to.”
Considering this has been the longest conversation I’d probably ever had with a soon-to-be-thirteen-year-old boy outside of science lab, I figure I shouldn’t push it. I shake my head and say, “I’ve got to take a shower.” Then I cringe. Did I really just tell him I needed to shower? Head down, I scamper away before I can further embarrass myself.
Uncle Roger has taken Ray’s place at the table, the newspaper half-obscuring his face. “Eggs?” Aunt Bethany asks me, holding out a skillet. Oil sizzles and pops all around the pan. I can’t help noticing she’s wearing makeup even though it’s early on a Sunday morning. Maybe she sleeps with it on. I thought only women on soap operas did that.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“Not at all,” she says. “You’d had a long day. We saved you some pizza; it’s in the fridge.”
“Thanks.” I’m waiting for her to ask where I’d gone, but she doesn’t say anything. I clear my throat and say, “Um, I was just out riding my bike, I mean, Emily’s bike. I should have left a note or something.”
She cracks an egg over the pan. The oil sizzles louder. “Ray told us,” she says, tilting the pan so the egg spreads evenly. “We want you to feel comfortable here, so feel free to do whatever you’d normally do at home.”
I’d rather not admit that at home my mother makes me tell her every time I step out of her sight. And I have no desire to wear body armor while biking in a strange town.
She glances at my outfit. “Perhaps you’d like to shower and change before the barbeque?”
I redden. “I was just about to.”
“Towels are in the hall closet,” she says, then lifts the pan off the stove. With a flick of her wrist, the fried egg jumps out of the pan, flips in the air, and lands in the center of the pan. She beams in satisfaction.
“Cool,” I say.
She waves her hand. “Don’t be too impressed. Eggs are the only things I know how to make that don’t taste like burnt bricks.”
The head behind the newspaper nods in agreement.
I’m halfway out of the kitchen when Aunt Bethany calls out to me, “Wait a sec.” She leaves the pan on the stove and picks up my arm, the one with my mom’s bracelet. “This looks familiar.”
I can’t think of what to say without admitting it was my mother’s, so I blurt out, “I have a whole bag of jewelry for you from Mom. It’s upstairs.”
She lowers my arm and smiles. “I saw the bag last night. I figured it was either your mom’s or you’re an international jewel thief posing as my niece. Speaking of your mother, you should call her now, before the plane takes off.”
She’s probably right. But I really, really don’t want to talk to my parents. Mom can always tell when I’m hiding something. Even over the phone. She’s truly gifted that way. I’m still not ready to tell them I lost everything they gave me.
“Darling?” Uncle Roger asks, calmly resting the paper on the table.
“I thought she told me you weren’t coming for a few weeks.”
I want to tell him he misunderstood her, but then I’d have to explain how I only pepper-sprayed the principal a few days ago, and I have no desire to share my life story with a strange boy. I look around for a ladder or rope, but don’t see any. Changing the subject I ask, “Did you, um, fall into the hole?”
He shakes his head. “Good acoustics down here. Nice echo effect off the dirt walls. And more privacy than at my house. I live across the street. Your aunt lets me practice over here.”
“Practice for what?”
“For my bar mitzvah. It’s in a month. I’ll, you know, become a man. According to tradition.”
That explains the foreign language. There are a few Jewishkids in my grade, but I hadn’t been invited to any of their bar mitzvahs. “Well, I should, uh, let you get back to it.”
“Wait,” he says. “You don’t have to go. I mean, if you don’t want to.”
Considering this has been the longest conversation I’d probably ever had with a soon-to-be-thirteen-year-old boy outside of science lab, I figure I shouldn’t push it. I shake my head and say, “I’ve got to take a shower.” Then I cringe. Did I really just tell him I needed to shower? Head down, I scamper away before I can further embarrass myself.
Uncle Roger has taken Ray’s place at the table, the newspaper half-obscuring his face. “Eggs?” Aunt Bethany asks me, holding out a skillet. Oil sizzles and pops all around the pan. I can’t help noticing she’s wearing makeup even though it’s early on a Sunday morning. Maybe she sleeps with it on. I thought only women on soap operas did that.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“Not at all,” she says. “You’d had a long day. We saved you some pizza; it’s in the fridge.”
“Thanks.” I’m waiting for her to ask where I’d gone, but she doesn’t say anything. I clear my throat and say, “Um, I was just out riding my bike, I mean, Emily’s bike. I should have left a note or something.”
She cracks an egg over the pan. The oil sizzles louder. “Ray told us,” she says, tilting the pan so the egg spreads evenly. “We want you to feel comfortable here, so feel free to do whatever you’d normally do at home.”
I’d rather not admit that at home my mother makes me tell her every time I step out of her sight. And I have no desire to wear body armor while biking in a strange town.
She glances at my outfit. “Perhaps you’d like to shower and change before the barbeque?”
I redden. “I was just about to.”
“Towels are in the hall closet,” she says, then lifts the pan off the stove. With a flick of her wrist, the fried egg jumps out of the pan, flips in the air, and lands in the center of the pan. She beams in satisfaction.
“Cool,” I say.
She waves her hand. “Don’t be too impressed. Eggs are the only things I know how to make that don’t taste like burnt bricks.”
The head behind the newspaper nods in agreement.
I’m halfway out of the kitchen when Aunt Bethany calls out to me, “Wait a sec.” She leaves the pan on the stove and picks up my arm, the one with my mom’s bracelet. “This looks familiar.”
I can’t think of what to say without admitting it was my mother’s, so I blurt out, “I have a whole bag of jewelry for you from Mom. It’s upstairs.”
She lowers my arm and smiles. “I saw the bag last night. I figured it was either your mom’s or you’re an international jewel thief posing as my niece. Speaking of your mother, you should call her now, before the plane takes off.”
She’s probably right. But I really, really don’t want to talk to my parents. Mom can always tell when I’m hiding something. Even over the phone. She’s truly gifted that way. I’m still not ready to tell them I lost everything they gave me.
“Darling?” Uncle Roger asks, calmly resting the paper on the table.
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