Let’s stop being grown-ups, said LaRose.
Josette walked back along the highway, her mind blurring out the image of the carpety Ravich grass. There was plenty of grass beside her, in the ditches, the new grass growing out of the dead grass. She thought of her house, where she could put something down and pick it up later, where Mom always bugged everybody to straighten up but still the shelves held a spill of books and papers, an eagle fan on a rectangle of red cloth, abalone shells, sage, tobacco ties, red willow baskets, framed pictures, a bird’s nest, cedar, Disney figurines. Maybe it was too much. She walked down into the ditch, and then up to her scruffy gray house. She stopped. Surveyed her valiant little flowers. The classroom-toughened geraniums hadn’t died yet. There were white violets dug from the woods, Johnny-jump-ups from her grandmother’s flower box, some budding purple onion-smelling plant, chives. And the yard, oh well. Some weeds were growing in. She’d keep watering it. In the shed there was an old push mower. A gas-powered weed whacker. Dandelions were everywhere, and they were green, very green, and she’d let them grow until they touched leaves and grew together. She’d mow them too. Mow everything, she nodded, looking around the place and smiling. There would be splashes of color around the front door. It was the cake people came for, anyway, and she had that solidly covered. She and Snow were buying the cakes with their own money. One would be chocolate with white icing that said Happy Graduation, with a frosting diploma that said Hollis. The next would be yellow cake with chocolate icing that said the same. The third would say You Go! and the frosting would be desert camouflage.
Dessert camouflage, said Josette when they ordered the cakes. Get it?
Groan, said Snow.
Their mom was going to a meat locker in Hoopdance where she could get the right cuts for slow-cooker barbecue. Landreaux was sent around to borrow cookers from Ottie and Bap and random relatives. The frybread was coming from Grandma Peace. They would make the coleslaw, the potato salad, and Hollis said he’d get the ice and two big coolers. He’d get the sodas.
Don’t tell Dad, said Josette. And get some diet ones.
Hollis was in on the planning now. He’d found out about the party just the week before. One of his friends at school had told him he was coming.
To what?
To your party.
What party?
Oops. Shit. Was it a surprise, man?
I don’t know.
Along came Snow.
We were going to tell you!
Or maybe surprise you!
Josette said, We couldn’t decide. We kept arguing about what to do.
God, said Snow. I’m so glad you know.
We were sure Coochy would let on.
No, Hollis had said, dazzled. I didn’t know. A party.
Now he was in on the rest of the planning.
Should I, said Hollis. Can I . . .
What?
Invite my dad.
Oh my god, of course, said Snow.
He’s already on the list, said Josette. We dropped off an invitation.
You guys made invitations?
Don’t choke up, Hollis.
For a moment, Josette was her real self. Smart-alecky. Then she remembered that she might be in love with Hollis. Her voice went softer, studiously casual.
Yeah, we ran them off on Mom’s school printer. They’re just, you know, basic.
No, they’re not, said Snow. She made them really elegant. She put all different fonts of lettering and RSVP and all of that.
Can I have one?
Sure, said Josette. You can check it out. I think I got everything right.
That’s not it, said Hollis. I want one so I can frame it. I’m going put it up on my wall. Wherever I have a wall, where I end up next.
He trailed off.
Oh, just stay, said Snow.
Josette looked into his thin face, tried to say yeah in a casual way, but her voice scratched out in her throat and she turned the sound into a cough. Why did this happen to her, always? This leaping joy? Then this sudden clutch? She tried to laugh it off but her laugh snagged in her nose, became an ugly snorting hack like a crabby old man’s. Could it get worse? Snow was looking at her with a get it together expression. Hollis was embarrassed for her, staring at the side of the yard. She took a deep breath. Dignity. Dignity please.
Sorry about that. Allergies. Of course you should stay.
Then she looked straight at Hollis again and all her heart came into her face. If he had not been so polite, trying to make like he didn’t notice her honk. If he had just turned back in time to see the look on her face. He would have known. He would have known in all certainty. Her love was pouring straight out of her eyes. But he was still staring at the yard when her expression froze, then neutralized. He was thinking, Maybe I can grow some grass there, in those bare spots. Maybe she would like that.