“We always wanted more kids,” she says, and when I look at her I’m surprised to see that her eyes are damp. “Always. But after Leo, it just never happened for us, and then after so many years of hoping and trying, you came along.”
“A total mess of a nine-year-old,” I say with a smile. “Just what you wanted.”
Aunt Sofia shakes her head. “That’s the thing. You wereexactlywhat we wanted. I mean it, Alice. Losing your parents was unbearable for us too. But there was also this hole in our family, and you were the one to fill it, and that’s always weighed on me, because—” She hesitates. “Well, it’s not easy, you know? To get the thing you want most in the world in the worst way possible.”
Her words buzz through me, filling my head like static. I’m not sure what to think; I’m half-reassured and half-devastated by all this, half-comforted and half-wrecked.
“So,” she continues, taking a long breath, “I’ve always tried to make sure you don’t feel like we’re trying to replace them. But even though you don’t call us Mom and Dad, you should know that’s how we think of ourselves. You’re their daughter, and you always will be. But we hope you feel like you’re ours too.” She dabs at her eyes with her finger. “And it’s never been a burden, financially or otherwise. In fact, it’s an honor.”
I nod, my throat too thick for words. Because right then, I don’t feel like an island or even a peninsula.
I feel utterly landlocked in the best possible way.
“Anyway,” she says, wiping her eyes, “my concern with the money has nothing to do with me and Jake. It’s about you. I just want to make sure you’ve really thought hard about it, and that it won’t be something you’ll regret later on. Because it’s a lot.”
“I know,” I admit. “Leo thinks I’m nuts.”
“That’s because Leo would take it in a heartbeat.” She raises her eyebrows. “Honestly? So would Jake. So would most people.”
“What about you?”
“It’s hard to say. I guess you never really know until you’re in that situation.”
“But?” I ask, tilting my head.
“But,” she says, “I think my instinct would’ve been the same as yours. It just seems like a lot, doesn’t it? And it must come with an awful lot of strings attached.”
“Yes,” I say, feeling a rush of gratitude, because that’s exactly what I said to Leo, exactly what I’ve been thinking ever since Teddy and I dug the ticket out of the garbage that snowy day. I didn’t know what a relief it would be, to talk to someone who doesn’t think my decision was a monumentally stupid one.
“When my parents came over from Argentina, they made a life out of nothing,” Aunt Sofia says. “And Jake and I have worked really hard to make a life for you and Leo. I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished. And I happen to think it’s a pretty good life. Even without millions and millions of dollars.”
“Me too,” I say, and I mean it. I feel lucky that my parents left me enough money for college, and maybe for a few years beyond if I’m smart with it. But I realize now that I don’t want a safety net. At least not a financial one. I want to make it on my own too.
“I know you had your own reasons for turning it down,” Aunt Sofia says. “And I totally support whatever you want to do, as long as you’re sure.”
“I am,” I say, then hesitate. “I think I am.”
She looks at me carefully. “You think?”
“I don’t want it myself,” I say. “I really don’t.”
“But?”
“I guess I wish Teddy was doing something more with it,” I say, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Something better. It’s so much money. Even a little bit of it could help so many people, so it’s just hard to—”
“Oh, hon,” Aunt Sofia says, shaking her head. “You can’t do that.”
“What?”
“He’s a kid whose family has had some pretty rough financial problems, and he just won an ungodly amount of money. You can’t expect him to do everything right. Or to do everything you would do. Because it’s not you. It’s him.”
“I know,” I say. “It’s just hard.”
“It’s not your job to worry about it,” she says, drawing me close again. “Your only job is to be his friend, which I already know you can do.”
I don’t say anything. All I do is nod, hoping she’s right.
The race doesn’t begin until eighth period, but all of Mr. Dill’s physics students are excused from afternoon classes so we can put the finishing touches on our boats. The rest of the seniors always grumble about this, since they only get to skip one period to watch, but as I stand at the edge of the swimming pool, the air warm and stuffy and thick with chlorine, I’m starting to suspect they have the better end of the deal.
