There was a distant bump, followed by a creak. Liz froze. “She’s opening that door? Dear God. Last I checked there was a wasp nest in the screen.”
“Watch for wasps!” Kasey called at the same time.
My mom appeared not to hear this, as the banging continued. Then, a scream.
“Damn,” Liz said. A scurry of slaps as she moved into the hall. “I’ll get the Raid.”
A blur passed by my open door, arms flailing. It was mymom. This was what finally broke her: flying insects.
“Whoa,” I heard Kasey say. “We should probably call an exterminator.”
“Add it to the list.” Various bangs and thuds were now coming from the kitchen. Liz sighed. “God. Why do we have so much bleach and rags in here? Did I miss a murder?”
“Not that I remember.”
Just then, there was a crunching of gravel from outside. Looking again out the window, I saw it was the truck, returning. Clark was behind the wheel, another guy with freckles and shaggy brown curls in the passenger seat. They both watched as my mom came down the steps, still shrieking and waving her arms although nothing now trailed her. Again, I felt that weird mix of embarrassment and protectiveness.
“What’s with the screaming?” Clark asked.
“Wasps,” Kasey, who was outside as well, told him. “In the Juvie door.”
“Where’s the Raid?”
“I’m finding it!” Liz yelled from the kitchen. How could she heareverything?
Clark got out. The other guy, who was in jeans and a worn green T-shirt, did the same. Then he reached into his pocket, pulling out a ring of keys.
“All closed up,” he said, holding them out to Kasey. “Got the leak stopped until the plumber can get there.”
“Bless you.” She took them. As Clark headed inside, she added, “Hey! Be careful. Remember last time.”
He nodded. “Got it.”
“Another reason not to stay in Juvie,” I heard Liz say from somewhere. “At least it’s not hornets.”
Hornets?
“Finley.” I looked up: My mom was in my doorway. Slightly calmer, clearly still rattled. She took a breath. “You okay?”
This was a tough question. What was okay, right now?
“Why do they call that room ‘Juvie’?” I asked.
She’d been peering down the hall and now glanced at me, distracted. “It’s the worst room in the house. Tiny, off the kitchen, no quiet.”
“Wasps,” I added.
“Right.” A hissing noise from the kitchen area, followed by doors banging. “My mother always made the summer room assignments. We had a lot of rules. If she put you there, it was usually a punishment for breaking them. Hence the name.”
This was hard to reconcile with my own memory of my grandmother. The one time we’d visited before her funeral she’d been tiny and white-haired, smiling and patting me constantly with one or the other of her thin, blue-veined hands. “Did you stay there a lot?”
“Think you’ll be okay in here?”
So she didn’t want to talk about it. Fair. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
She nodded, businesslike, before starting back to the kitchen. Now, outside, I could see my aunts standing by the minivan, deep in conversation. Between Liz’s sensible mom-wear outfit and Kasey’s oversized shirt and cutoff shorts, they looked more like a mother and daughter than sisters.
Liz said something, running a hand through her hair and leaving a few sprigs sticking up. Kasey nodded, then reached out, smoothing them back down. All fixed.
