“Wait—you’re going out again? You just got home.”
“I was with Matt and Joe and Eric and those guys. Emerald’s been studying all day, so we haven’t hung out yet.” She’s obviously disappointed, so I say, “Why don’t you call Denise or something?”
“It’s Saturday.”
“So?”
“So I’m sure she has plans with her husband,” Mom says stiffly. “But it’s fine. Really.” She places the remedies in a paper sack and hands it to me.
“Thanks.” I kiss her cheek before I go.
My fist is poised to knock on Julian’s door again when it swings open. The suited man standing there is big—practically Charlie tall—but a lot more built. His dark eyes look a little impatient, like maybe I interrupted something.
“Hi,” I say. “Is Julian home?”
“And you are?” He has one of those anchorman voices—deep and without a trace of any accent.
“Oh, sorry. You must be Julian’s uncle. I’m Adam.”
I pause for a second, waiting to be invited in, because it’s freakin cold out. Instead he takes a step forward, his wide shoulders and stance filling the entire door.
“I just wanted to drop these off for him.” I raise the paper sack in the air.
He takes it and peers inside. “What is this?”
“Liquid chlorophyll and astragalus root. All-natural remedies—great for colds and flu. He didn’t look so good when I stopped by the other day. And since he’s always coming down with something—”
“You stopped by?”
His tone freezes my smile. I remember Julian saying his uncle didn’t like it when he had people over. Now I’ve probably gotten him in trouble. “Well, yeah, but I was in and out. He wasn’t at school, so I wanted to check on him.”
“You go to school with Julian?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re in the same grade?” He gives me a suspicious squint, which I get. I’m obviously not a freshman.
“No, a senior.”
“A senior.”
“Yeah—yes. Sir.”
“And you’re spending time with Julian.”
“Yes.”
“Adam, is it?” I nod. “Adam, I hope you understand, but I don’t want Julian getting mixed up with the wrong people.”
I don’t even know what to say to that. I’m pretty sure no one in my entire life has ever looked at me and figured I’m the wrong people. “Well, I mean, I’m not getting him into trouble, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t even use pharmaceuticals.” I point to the paper sack.
“I’m just trying to understand what someone your age sees in a boy Julian’s age.” An uncomfortable feeling starts creeping down my spine. “What is your interest in him?”
“My interest? We’re friends.”
“Yes, I can see why you’d want to be friends with someone like Julian.” He smiles, flashing a row of tiny white teeth, but there’s an edge to his tone, almost like he’s being sarcastic.
“Why wouldn’t I want to be friends with Julian?”
“He needs friends his own age. Apparently, so do you.” He pushes the bag into my chest and shuts the door in my face.
“Not everyone’s going to like you, Adam,” Emerald says after I get back into the warm car and tell her what happened.
“He didn’t just not like me. He accused me of, like, molesting his nephew.”
“He said that?”
“He didn’t use those exact words, but he implied it.”
“What did he say?”
“It’s not just about what he said. It’s a feeling. Like in nature videos, when the deer’s ears perk up even though they can’t actually see the hunter. They can just feel that something’s off.”
Emerald cracks up.
“I’m serious. And he wouldn’t even invite me in. Like I’m a vampire or a Jehovah’s Witness or something.”
“Maybe the house was messy.”
“I really doubt that. You should see that place.”
When I pull up to Emerald’s curb, she hesitates, her fingers flipping the robot-face vent, flashing heat up then down across her cheeks. “My mom’s staying with Rusty again.”
“Yeah?”
“She’s been there for almost a week.”
“I can’t imagine my mom leaving me alone for a week.” I laugh. “I don’t think she trusts me that much.”
“Why don’t you sleep over?” she offers suddenly.
“Uh—”
“And I’m not suggesting whatever it is you’re thinking.”
“I’m not thinking anything.”
She raises one perfect eyebrow.
An hour later, she’s leaving the shower, dressed in a long white cotton nightgown like some Victorian-era maiden. It probably shouldn’t be a turn-on, but it is. Her skin’s showing through the wet fabric on her stomach and thighs. Her hair’s still damp and loose around her shoulders. All that’s a turn-on too.
She crawls into her bed next to me, and rests her head on my chest. “I’m glad you’re here,” she says.
“Me too.” I lean down to kiss the little mole under her eye.
“It’s too quiet at night.”
I kiss the one on her cheek.
“I don’t like it.”
I kiss the one on her shoulder.
“Adam?”
“Yeah?”