“In charge?”
I nodded.
“Since our da died. Must be nine years now.”
“And that’s why you quit school.”
It was his turn to nod.
Out on the field, the girls’ coach called them in for a huddle. The boys were still running, kicking the ball back and forth.
“Look at your target!” Tim shouted. “You have to communicate.”
“Do you ever think of going back?” I asked Sam.
He slanted a look down at me. “Why?”
“Well... It’s just...” I floundered. “You seem to love reading so much.”
“Books don’t pay the bills.”
“But if you got your degree...”
His lips twisted. “You Americans and your eternal optimism. Not every man can grow up to be president, you know.”
“But you could do anything. Go into teaching or publishing or communications or something.”
“Life’s not a fucking fairy tale, Boots. Sooner or later, you have to accept there are no happy endings.”
Sophie ran up as her team dispersed. “It’s time to go.”
I glanced over her head. Sam’s sister Aoife was still on the pitch, bouncing a ball from knee to knee. “Is practice over already?”
Lily slid off the Ping-Pong table and came over. “Thank God. I’m so bored.”
Sam’s gaze met mine. His mouth crooked. “Better go back to your tower, princess.”
I wanted to protest. But I’d never been any good at saying what I wanted. Besides, the girls were waiting. “Thanks again for the book.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll return it,” I said, like a promise.I want to see you again.
“Anytime.” His smile jabbed my heart like a fishhook. “All you have to do is cross the river.”
—
My room at the Nortons’ didn’t have a television.
When she showed me the room, Glenda had asked if Iminded. It had been an issue, apparently, with “the last girl.” I assured her the lack of a TV didn’t bother me. Look at the cute slanted ceiling! The carved wooden headboard! The gilt-framed mirror over the dresser! It was like staying in a bed-and-breakfast, with the bath down the hall.
She was so nice to let me stay at all.
I knew the rules of make-believe. Generally, it paid to be an orphan. Cinderella, Rapunzel, Anne Shirley, Jane Eyre—theyhadto be motherless children. How else could they prove they were worthy of love? But sometimes I wondered what it would be like to be part of a different kind of story, to grow up under the protective wing of Marmee inLittle Womenor Ma in that little house on the prairie, to belong in a house like this.
The thought felt vaguely disloyal. Our mother wasn’t like other mothers. Ordinary mothers. She was special.
My bedside lamp glowed against the early-evening dusk. Glenda and James were downstairs, Sophie and Lily in their rooms, doing homework. Or, I suspected, playing computer games. For all the perfection of Glenda’s family, they didn’t seem to spend a lot of time together. Not like, say, Sam and his sisters.
