have over there. Tapas or some shit. He likes burgers. Steak.â
âI swear, Iâm going to deck her,â Taylor whispered.
âGet in line,â Chloe whispered back, and in Health said to Blake as they took their seats, âWhyâd you have to go tell everybody, dumblehead?â She was churlish. âYou and your big mouth. What if my parents say no?â
âHaiku, you funny.â Blake patted her arm as he flipped open his spiral notebook. âYou didnât think your mother would just buy you a plane ticket to Spain, did you? The woman didnât let you take the school bus until your senior year and even now still drives you in the morning. She was hardly going to run to Liberty Travel in North Conway. They need to think it over.â
âYes. And then say no.â
âThey loves you. Why would they say no to the one they loves?â
Blake knew nothing. Lang was definitely gearing up to say no. She was making heavenly lemon pound cake when Chloe got home from school, a consolation dessert if ever there was one.
âWhat are you doing, Chloe?â Lang slid a plate of pound cake in front of her daughter. âAre you placing all your hopes on what may lie just around the next bend in the river? You think you can drift on the train from Spain to France not knowing where your next stop will be in the fervent hope that youâll come closer to an answer to that most profound of human questions?â
âAnd what question would that be, Mom.â That wasnât a question.
âWho you are, of course.â
Was there ever a mother more infuriatingly on point than her mother?
âYou know who I am? Olivia, the dancing pig. She has a painting of Degasâs ballerinas on her wall, but sheâs never going to be either Degas or a ballerina, is she?â
âSo now you think youâre a pig dreaming of being a dancer?âHer mother looked skeptical and amused. âHave some more cake,â she said. âAnd play the piano.â
âLike Iâm saying.â
To her surprise, her father came home early.
âChloe-bear,â Jimmy said. âYour mother and I are not going to talk to you about Barcelona anymore. You know how we feel. We know how you feel. We have to talk about it and think about it. Weâll let you know soon what we decide. I know youâre on the clock. For now, we are going to call a truce and talk about other things. Deal?â
âYou shouldâve told that to Mom,â Chloe said. âBecause sheâs been going on about Huck Finn all afternoon.â
âShe told me. Excuse me.â Jimmy moved Chloe out of the way. âYour mother and I are going for a walk.â
âYou are? Why?â
âIsnât it obvious?â her father said. âBecause we need privacy to talk about you, and at home youâre always eavesdropping.â
No words more frightening could have been spoken mildly by a gruffly amiable man, who placed his badge and his service weapon on the hall table and donned his spring parka. Lang put on her suede shoes and a Pittsburgh Pirates baseball cap she had bought at a garage sale even though sheâd never heard of the Pirates and thought they were a football team. Off they went, arm in arm, her mother stout, her father expansive, into the hills around the lake.
They were gone an hour.
At dinner they talked of television shows, movies, her graduation party, college. Should she ship her heavier items like a television ahead of time, or should they buy a TV on the other side? And what about a car? Sheâd definitely need one. How did she feel about a used VW Beetle? Perhaps red? Not a word about Spain was spoken.
The next afternoon, the pattern was the same. Lang made oatmeal-raisin cookies, Jimmy came home early, and they vanished through the birches. The third day Chloe began todoubt everything she thought she wanted. How important was Barcelona anyway? Why
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