Part 15 (1/2)

”Nice to meet you, Mrs. McLean,” Amy says. ”You look very good for someone who just had a heart attack.”

Mom glances at me.

”It wasn't a heart attack,” I remind Amy. ”Just a blockage.”

”Oh. Sorry. I knew that. I just meant you're so pretty and young.

My mom looks like she could be your grandma.”

”Well, that's the nicest thing I've heard all day,” my mom says and smiles more genuinely than I've seen in a while.

She's so easily charmed, but I smile too because, as far as I can guess, Amy wasn't even trying to charm. She pretty much says whatever is on her mind. She's not one to lie. Well, except when she made me give her five dollars because she got busted for eating popcorn. There was that. But she did pay me back- with interest.

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J a n e t G u r t l e r ”It's true,” Amy says. ”My mom's hair is gray and she's round.”

Jake laughs.

”I don't mean to sound mean. She is round. She calls herself that.” She shrugs. ”We don't care, my dad and I. She's big-boned.”

Her eyes light up. ”Oh. I made you all something,” she says. She reaches into her hoodie pocket and pulls out a handful of some- thing. ”Hold up your wrist,” she says to me. I do as I'm told, and she slips a thick, colorful, rope bracelet on it. I turn my wrist over, admiring it. It's made of soft material, like a T- s.h.i.+rt or something.

Then she turns to my mom. ”Wrist,” she says.

”What?” My mom frowns but does as she's told.

”I had to make one for the whole family,” Amy says and ties a beau- tiful bead bracelet with a heart pendant on it around Mom's wrist.

”It's really pretty,” Mom says.

”It's my hobby,” Amy answers.

She turns to Jake and puts two dark leather, knotted bracelets in his hand. ”I didn't know if you would wear these, but I didn't want to leave the brothers out.”

Jake grins broadly and slides both bracelets on his wrist.

Amy frowns at him. ”One is for the other brother.”

”Yeah. Well, we'll see if he deserves it.”

Amy smiles and looks to me. ”I thought you said your brothers were dorks,” she says without a trace of irony. ”He's not a dork.”

Jake throws his head back and laughs like it's the best joke he's heard in years. Mom makes a sound in her throat like she's covering up laughter. I roll my eyes and step between Amy and Jake.

”I meant dork in the nicest possible way. Okay. We should go,” I

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1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e say to Amy and put my hand on her back to move her out the front door. I make a mental note to explain to her the concept of tact.

Amy digs her feet in, giving my mom a laundry list of the routes we're taking and how she's had the car inspected and her dad gave her his credit card. Amy tells her she's loaded up on snacks and drinks, and we're completely prepared for the trip.

Jake is watching us as if he's mesmerized. I wonder if someone took his brain out or if he's developed a drug habit. Jake doesn't stare at girls like that. And his cheeks are blotchy. I look at Amy and try to see her through his eyes, but all I see is a tiny, quirky girl with brown hair and a skinny build. She's pretty, but nothing like the girls Josh dates. Of course, part of the beauty of Jake is that he sees people from the inside. And whatever it is inside of Amy, he seems to like it.

”Come on, motor mouth,” I say to Amy, and she laughs, but Jake gives me a dirty look and it makes me giggle inside.

”Text me,” Mom says, and her voice breaks at the end of the sentence. I look at her pale face with her naked lips pressed tightly together, and my heart swoops. It hits me with a force. I'm going to meet my father. I wonder if the fear in her eyes is for me- or her.

”I'll be on roaming, so it'll be expensive.” I don't want to chat with her while I'm doing this. It's too confusing. ”But if there's an emergency, text me.” I stress the word emergency. I don't want to deal with her drama, but I am worried about her health.

”I can give you my cell number,” Amy says to my mom. ”My dad bought me a texting plan for the weekend, and I have unlimited texting and calling from Canada.” She looks at my mom and then at me.

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J a n e t G u r t l e r ”Nice of him,” Jake says.

”He worries.”

”I'll get a pen and paper,” Mom says.

”No. Wait here. I'll be right back.” Jake darts into the living room and trots back holding his phone. ”Here, put your number in my contact list. Just in case.” He hands her his phone. ”I'll text it to my mom after.”

”Sure. Yeah.” She types in her info and then looks up at him, and they both smile. I watch the both of them.

”My dad invented Sour Cats,” she tells Jake, as if it's natural she should tell him everything about her. Based on Jake's goofy smile, he doesn't mind.