“Just a girl in my class.” Melissa Binsko had said all of maybe three words to me in the four years we had gone to school together. The last time I had seen her in the hall, she’d been draped all over Milo. “We’re not even friends, but Zoe is going to have a heart attack if we don’t go.”
“Dude!” Zoe said. “Who cares if we’re not friends? Do you know how much money that girl’s family has? Come on! It’s gonna be the coolest party of the entire year!”
“So you’re just interested in going because she has money?”
“Money, great food, a pool, and a hot tub.” Zoe ticked off the items on one hand. “Um…yeah?”
“Whatever.” I turned to look at my sister. “So why couldn’t Goober come?”
“Greg wouldn’t switch weekends. You know how he can get.”
Actually, I didn’t know how Greg could get. I didn’t know Goober’s father at all. Neither did Mom and Dad. He and Sophie had split up early in her pregnancy and had never gotten back together. “Well, tell her I miss her,” I said. “To Pluto and back and around again to infinity.” That was Goober’s and my pet phrase. Goober had made it up. We said it all the time before we had to say good-bye.
Sophie made a gesture with her chin. “Will do.”
“So, Sophie.” Zoe brought her cigarette to her lips and inhaled, a little more confidently this time. “How’s Vermont?”
“Actually, I just moved,” Sophie said.
I glanced over at my sister again. This was news.
Sophie pushed a piece of hair out of her face. “Not very far from where I used to be in Rutland, though. I bought a little place in a town called Poultney.”
“Is that still in Vermont?” I asked.
“Uh-huh. Right on the New York border.”
“Do Mom and Dad know?”
Sophie shrugged. “No. But I just moved a few weeks ago. And I was going to tell everyone tonight at dinner.”
“Why’d you move?” Zoe asked.
“Well,” Sophie said, taking another drag from her cigarette, “I’m opening a business.”
I stared at her. “You are?”
“Awesome!” Zoe gushed. “What kind of business?”
“A bakery,” Sophie said. “Just a little one.”
“A bakery?” I struggled to suppress a wave of annoyance. It was embarrassing that I only knew as much about my older sister as my best friend did.
“Yeah,” Sophie said. “I’ve always wanted to open a bakery. And I’ve been saving for years. So when things finally started coming together, and I saw this place, I decided the hell with it, I was just gonna do it.” She took a drag on her cigarette. “It’s not in the best of shape right now, but I have the rest of the summer to work on it. I’m planning on opening for business in September.”
“What does Goober think?” I asked.
“Oh, she loves it!” Sophie said. “Seriously. She’s so excited.”
“Do you have to learn how to bake?” Zoe asked. “I mean, you’re the one who has to make everything, right? Or are you going to hire someone to do that for you?”
Sophie smiled slightly. “No, I can bake,” she said. “Right, Julia?”
I stared straight ahead, annoyed suddenly by something I couldn’t name. “Yeah.”
She nudged me with her elbow. “Remember all that stuff I used to make in high school?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I’ve been working on my muffins for years,” Sophie said. “And I want to sell fresh bread and pies. Maybe some cakes too.”
“That sounds like a lot of work,” I said.
“It is,” Sophie replied promptly. “That’s the fun of it.”
“What’s it called?” Zoe asked.
“I haven’t decided on a name just yet,” Sophie said. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“Cool.” Zoe sat forward, holding on to the back of my seat again. “I’m gonna think of something good.”
“Yeah.” I felt tired all of a sudden, as if the morning’s events had just caught up with me. “That’s great.”
For a second, like a balloon floating by, I wondered where Milo was, what he was doing. And then, as the car began to move, the balloon disappeared, floating up past the trees until it was just a pinpoint of color against the sky.
chapter
4
When Sophie was sixteen she had a boyfriend named Eddie Waters. We all loved Eddie. He was tall and dark haired, and when he came to dinner he always brought my mother a bouquet of flowers. But Sophie was mean to him. Cruel, even. She spoke down to him as if he were stupid, and often ended their long, drawn-out phone calls by slamming the phone back into the receiver. One night, after a particularly loud argument between them, I tapped softly on Sophie’s bedroom door. She hadn’t come down for dinner, and didn’t touch a thing on the plate Mom brought up. “Soph?”
No answer. Sophie usually let me in when I knocked. I would sprawl out over her bed, drawing in my doodle pad while she did homework. After tonight’s fight with Eddie, however, maybe she had other ideas.
I tapped again. “Soph?” I said, a little louder this time.
“Yeah?” Her voice was stuffy with tears.
“Can I come in?”