“Upstairs,” she said. “Second drawer in my dresser is where I keep all my work clothes. Take whatever you need.”
I plodded upstairs slowly, placing my phone down next to the baby picture of Goober, and got out the clothes. It was weird that I fit into Sophie’s overalls. For the first time I realized that I wasn’t smaller than her anymore. I walked into my room to change and saw a notebook on the dresser. It wasn’t just a regular notebook. It was a sketch notebook, with a charcoal hand and pen drawn on the front. The pages were heavy, like thin cardboard, and there were at least two hundred of them.
“Sophie?” I came back outside again, holding the notebook up questioningly.
Sophie grinned. “You like it?”
“What’s it for?”
“What do you mean, what’s it for? It’s for you, dork. So you can draw. I’m good company, but I’m not gonna be able to entertain you 24-7.” She shrugged. “Not that you need entertaining, but I thought you might want to doodle a little during some of your down time.”
I put a hand on my hip, ready to tell her I didn’t draw or doodle, that she shouldn’t have gone out and bought me something just because she was glad that I was staying. But none of it came out. Instead, I just stood there looking at her, a vague gratefulness rising inside of me.
“It’s not a pony, Julia.” Sophie shrugged. “It’s just a sketch pad. Use it if you feel like it, or leave it in your room. It’s not a deal breaker, okay?”
“All right.” I put the pad down gently and picked up the scraper. “You want me to work right here next to you?”
“Nope.” Sophie shook her head. “Other side.” She grunted as her scraper got caught behind a chunk of paint. “Let’s get started. I work on the outside of the house in the mornings, when it’s still cool out. In the afternoon, we’ll move inside. It’s still early. We can work for a few hours and then break for breakfast.”
It didn’t take long to get the general hang of the scraping. But it was just about the most boring thing I’d ever done. And I wasn’t very good at it. It was a messy job, which, with my lack of expertise, I only made messier. In a matter of minutes, my hands and wrists were covered with so much flaked paint that I looked like a giraffe. So were my overalls, my sneakers, and my T-shirt. We were working at eye level now, scraping the sides of the house we could reach easily. It was going to be impossible, I thought, once we got to the lower—or upper—sides of the house. And how long would it take? Weeks? Months? The whole summer?
Across the street, the lights had been turned on inside Perry’s. A few men idled again in front of Stewart’s, coffee cups in hand. The sky was full of light now, waiting for the day—and the rest of Poultney—to awake. I lowered my head and kept scraping.
Sophie meandered over to my side of the building about ninety minutes later. She stood back a few feet behind me, crossed her arms, and surveyed my progress. “Not bad, Jules. You skipped a few spots here”—she reached over and pointed—“and here, but that’s okay. You can get them later.” I bit my tongue. Signing up to help out around the house for a while was one thing. Getting criticized for how I did it was a whole other deal. “Why don’t you put your stuff down and go wash up,” she said. “We can go across the street for breakfast.”
I was ravenous. But my arms were so sore I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to hold a fork properly. I held them under the stream of water, letting the liquid run through my sore fingers. A large blister, smooth and white as a mushroom cap, was beginning to form at the base of my middle one. I rummaged through Sophie’s medicine chest in her bathroom until I found a box of Band-Aids and stuck one over the blister.
Sophie was waiting for me on the front porch. “There you are!” she said. “Hungry?”
I nodded eagerly. “What about Goober?” I asked, falling into step next to her as she crossed the street. “It’s Sunday. She should be coming back today, right? From camping with Greg?”
Sophie lifted her chin a little and then scratched under it. “They actually called last night while you were asleep. Goober begged me to let her stay with Greg for the rest of the week. They’re having a blast.” She shrugged. “What could I say? It’s the summer, right?” I nodded, trying not to let my disappointment show. At this rate, I’d never get a chance to see my niece.
The warm, salty smell inside Perry’s made my stomach rumble. It was only nine o’clock, but the little restaurant was already full. Walt and Lloyd lifted their arms simultaneously as Sophie came into view. Jimmy stared out the window.
“Working hard out there!” Walt said approvingly.
“Looking good!” Lloyd echoed.
Sophie clapped her hand over the top of my shoulder as she paused next to their table. “She’s gonna stay, boys! My baby sister’s gonna stay and help me fix up the house!”