“What?”
“So listen, I was still kind of pissed before, when you called,” Zoe said. “About the argument we had and everything. I’ve been lying here, though, thinking about all of it.” I held my breath. “You know I love you more than anything, Jules, but I don’t want to see your face anywhere near Silver Springs for the rest of the summer.”
I exhaled. “Gee, thanks.”
“You need to stay there, Julia. You really do.”
“Why?” I lowered my voice to a whisper, as if Mom and Dad might somehow be able to hear me through the other line. “Why do you think that?”
“It’s just a feeling I have.” Zoe paused. “A gut feeling that tells me you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Zoe said. “I don’t know what the details are, or what’s going on between you guys, but I’m pretty sure your sister needs you right now, Jules. You. Not your parents. Not a therapist. Just you.” She took a deep breath. “After everything you told me about her and the whole deal with Milford…that’s just how I feel. Plus, it’s not gonna hurt anyone if you get a little time to yourself to figure some stuff out. You deserve it. Anyway, that’s my speech. That’s what I should’ve said the first time you called. You do what you want, obviously. I gotta go get a Dr Pepper. I’m dying of thirst.”
“It’s seven in the morning, Zoe.”
“Exactly. I’m usually on my second one by now.”
“Thanks, Zoe,” I said.
I held my breath as I clicked back over to Mom and Dad. “Hey,” I said. “You guys still there?”
“We’re here,” Dad said.
“So…I’m gonna stay.” I said the words carefully. “I’ve decided that’s what I want to do right now. I don’t know how long it’s going to take, but I’ll keep in touch.”
Dad cleared his throat roughly. “Have you heard anything we just talked about, Julia?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I heard you. I heard every word. I love you guys. I’ll talk to you later.” I let my hand drop slowly to my side, still holding the phone, but I did not hang up.
“Julia?” Mom’s voice, tinny sounding and far away, came through the receiver. “Julia? Are you still there? Honey?”
More dandelion seeds scuttled in front of me, their feathery shapes silhouetted against the morning light.
“Julia!” Dad demanded. “Julia Anderson!”
I reached down with my thumb and closed the phone.
chapter
23
Sophie was outside, scraping paint off the side of the house, when I got back from making my phone calls. The muscles in her tattooed arms, bared beneath a sleeveless T-shirt and denim overalls, strained like smooth extension cords under her skin. Two braids, which hung down on either side of her face, had been tied back neatly with her red bandanna. She stopped when she saw me and put down her scraper. “You’re an early riser too, huh?”
“Not really. I couldn’t sleep much.”
She frowned. “You okay? You look like you just ate a plate of worms or something.”
I laughed lightly. “Actually, I just got off the phone with Mom and Dad.”
“Oh, yeah? You tell them you were staying?” Sophie picked up her scraper again, looking at me out of the corner of her eye.
“Of course I did. Why else would I call them?”
“What’d they say?”
I leaned against the side of the house. “Oh, they were thrilled. They told me it was about time I did something like this and that I should stay as long as I could.”
Sophie grinned. “That’s the kind of modern, progressive people they are.” She stopped for a minute, and let her hand fall down against her leg. “Seriously, though. You okay?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Good.” She pointed to another scraper sitting on top of a pile of rags. “That one’s for you. Watch me first.” She slid the little metal tool across a length of curling paint. Brown flakes dropped like a cascade of dirty snow against her boots, landing in a neat pile on the grass next to them. “Not so hard, right?”
“I guess not.”
She stepped back, making a space for me. “Go ahead. You try it.”
I picked up the scraper and then slid it across a new strip of paint. Halfway through, it caught and stuck, bending the tool backward and spewing minuscule spatters of paint up toward my face. “Ugh!”
“Don’t worry,” Sophie said, brushing at my cheeks with her fingers. “It just takes some practice. You’ll be okay.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a blue bandanna. “Tie this over your hair. Otherwise, you’ll get little flakes of paint in it. They’re impossible to get out.” She nodded at my khaki pants and T-shirt. “You got any crappier clothes than that?”
I shook my head.