Just for the Summer(41)

“Yeah.”

“Then let them have fun. Let him make his own decision about her. The guy’s not an idiot.”

I nodded, feeling a little better about my decision.

Chelsea squirmed in her seat. “Jussin, I’m done.”

He set his fork down and got up again. “Okay. Let me clean your face and then you can go watch Frozen until bedtime.”

I watched him take a wipe and get the sauce off her mouth and her hands. When he let her go, she ran out of the kitchen toward the living room. He followed her to put on her movie. I smiled after them.

When he came back, I was washing dishes.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, coming up next to me as I set the pot in the drying rack.

“It’s no problem, Jussin.”

He grinned and picked up a towel to start drying. I’d already loaded the dishwasher and started it, it was just the big stuff left to wash.

“Do you babysit a lot?” I asked.

He laughed dryly, but he didn’t get to reply. The sound of a door slamming came from the front of the house. Justin checked his watch and leaned back to peer down the hall. “Alex? You home? You’re early.”

But it wasn’t a teenage boy who came down the hallway, it was a young girl with a pink backpack slung over her shoulder.

He wrinkled his forehead. “Sarah. I thought you were spending the night at Josie’s.”

She looked around the kitchen, bored. “She’s being a bitch. I don’t want to hang out with her.”

“Uh, does Mom let you talk like that?” Justin said.

She rolled her eyes. “You asked me.”

“How did you get home?”

“I walked?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want you walking alone at night. You need to call me next time.”

“It’s like three blocks—”

“I don’t care. It’s late.”

She looked annoyed. “Fine. Whatever.” Then she looked at me. “Who are you?”

“This is Emma,” Justin said.

“Is she your girlfriend?” she said, looking me up and down.

“Yes.”

The corner of my lip twitched. I know we’d agreed on that title, but it still surprised me to hear it out loud.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

I’d never seen someone roll their eyes without actually rolling their eyes, but she somehow managed it anyway.

“There’s spaghetti—” Justin said.

“I ate at Josie’s. I’ll be in my room.” And she left.

Justin looked at me with an amused expression while we listened to her stomp up the stairs and slam the door.

“She’s twelve and at the hating-everything stage,” he said. “Were you like that when you were twelve?” he asked, taking the cookie sheet from me to dry.

“I didn’t have the luxury of being like that. I had to be invisible.”

He drew his brows down. “What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “I couldn’t really be needy or crabby. It just made Mom worse. And then when I was in foster care, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.”

“Why?”

“Because being difficult is the best way to get sent back? Or getting the crap beat out of you?”

He stopped and stared at me. “Did anyone ever do that to you?”

I looked at the sink as I scrubbed it out. “I have seen the good, the bad, and the ugly of the foster care system, Justin. And there’s definitely all three. Maddy’s parents were the good. I got really lucky with them.”

A little twinge of guilt stabbed at me suddenly, remembering I wasn’t going home for the anniversary party. It didn’t stab at me because I felt bad I wasn’t going. It stabbed at me because I felt bad that I didn’t feel bad.

What was wrong with me? These people had saved me.

Maybe Maddy was right. Maybe I was aloof to a fault. Except with Mom. With Mom I felt everything, all the time.

“What are you thinking?” Justin asked, snapping me out of it.

I looked up at him. “Was I making a face?”

“A little bit.”

I started rinsing the sink. “I’m thinking that my mom takes a lot out of me. And that maybe she doesn’t leave anything for anyone else.”

He nodded slowly like he understood.

“There’s this thing that I do,” I said. “It’s… never mind. It’s hard to explain.” I shut off the water.

“No, explain it,” he said, handing me the towel. “Tell me.”

I leaned my hip on the counter. “I have this thing where I get small,” I said, looking at the towel as I dried my hands. “I get really withdrawn and I just want to be alone.”

“Everybody feels like that sometimes.”

I shook my head. “No. It’s bigger than that.” I stopped and he waited for me to go on. “When I was little, I couldn’t really count on anyone. I mean, really I couldn’t. My mom was so all over the place and we were always moving. I’d get a friend or a teacher I liked and then they’d just be gone because I’d go live somewhere else. So I became an island—and the island is small. I don’t need anyone. And I know that sounds sort of terrible, but it’s actually comforting to know that I have this ability to need no one. It feels like a superpower. Like I’m untouchable.”