Girl Out of Water(64)

Aunt Jackie holds back stubborn tears as she dotes on Parker, or at least dotes as much as one can in a wheelchair and straight cast. They’re a matched pair, all bandaged up. She runs a hand through his hair and mumbles, “My poor baby. Why couldn’t you be obsessed with chess?”

I glance around the room and only see people who need my help. Parker is in pain. Aunt Jackie is in pain for him. Nash is confused about how to help. Emery is silent and grim. In all of the rushing to the hospital, I didn’t get a chance to ask how it went at the basketball courts, but the look on her face tells me it probably didn’t go too well. As I take this all in, it hits me—I can’t leave them worse off than they were at the start of summer.

“I’m not going,” I mumble.

Dad, standing beside me, asks, “What did you say?”

“I said I’m not going,” I repeat. “I’ll stay here and fly home with you like we planned.”

This time I say it loud enough for everyone to hear. Aunt Jackie whips her head in my direction. “Oh, no you’re not.”

“What?” I ask.

Oh, god. She’s mad at me. I broke her rule. I let Parker get into the bowl. Her child got hurt, and it’s my fault. Just like I was the one who wasn’t watching Nash when he hurt himself in the pool. And I’m the one who still hasn’t said anything about Emery and her friends.

Aunt Jackie wants me out of here before I damage them more.

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” she says.

I feel queasy. I wrap my arms around my waist and stare at the floor, trying to figure out how to apologize, when Aunt Jackie continues, “You’ve worked your ass—sorry kids, butt—off all summer taking care of this family, and you’re not going to miss out on your festival because Parker went and broke his arm. Not happening. Tonight is the last night you’re sleeping under this roof.”

It takes a second for my brain to register that I’m not under attack. She’s not mad at me. She’s trying to say thank you. “Umm…” I say. “Okay.”

“She’s right,” Dad agrees. “Parker will be fine without you. He has two very caring siblings to look after him, doesn’t he?”

Nash and Emery nod.

“In fact, those two siblings were going to make ice cream for everyone, isn’t that right?”

Nash and Emery nod again, this time with half smiles, which manages to ease my tight chest. They dash for the kitchen, where I hear cupboards slamming and silverware rattling. I settle down onto the couch next to Parker and push back his hair so that he can look up at me. “You sure you don’t mind me leaving?” I ask.

“It’s okay. As long as you promise to teach me to surf like you next summer.” He looks really worried for a second as he glances back and forth between Aunt Jackie and me. “My arm will be better by then, right?”

We both laugh. “It’ll be better in about a month, dude. But it’s a deal. Next summer, it’s you, me, and the ocean.”

? ? ?

“Anise, will you come in here for a second?” Aunt Jackie calls from the guest room as I’m heading upstairs. It’s past midnight, and after finally finishing packing, I rewarded myself with my third bowl of ice cream for the night.

“Yeah, of course.” I pad into the dark room, which is only lit by the small reading light attached to Aunt Jackie’s paperback book. “Do you need something?” I ask. She’s gotten pretty independent during the day, but once she’s out of the wheelchair and in bed, it’s easier for us to get her a glass of water or Advil or whatever else she needs.

“No, no. I’m fine.” She sets the book on the bed and pats the comforter. “Come sit for a second. I wanted to talk to you before you left.”

“Um, okay.” I sit on the edge of the bed instead of next to her. I’ve always been pretty comfortable around Aunt Jackie, but something about her tone makes me think I might not be comfortable with this particular conversation.

“I wanted to thank you.”

“What?”

“Thank you for everything this summer. You did such a great job with the kids. It means a lot that it was you looking after them and not some stranger. I know…I know I’m not your mom, of course not, but I think of you as a daughter, and so I wanted to say thank you. I know three kids are a lot to take care of, and I never saw you flinch once.”

“Oh,” I say, throat suddenly tight. “You’re welcome.”

She takes my hand and squeezes it, her eyes warm. “I’m proud of you, Anise. I just wanted you to know I’m really proud of you.”

Dad has told me he’s proud of me a million times, but this feels different. In the dim light, Aunt Jackie’s features are barely visible—I can’t see the color of her eyes or hair. In the dark, she could almost be my mom telling me she’s proud of me, which is even better than telling me she loves me—because it would mean she took the time to notice I’ve done something to be proud of.





Fourteen


My alarm goes off at five in the morning. I quickly silence it, not wanting to wake Emery. I packed and said all of my good-byes last night so I wouldn’t have to rouse my cousins when they could be in the throes of very important growth spurts. I ease out of bed and slip into my jean shorts. My legs prickle, protesting being out of the comforter’s warmth. A quiet voice breaks the predawn silence. “Anise?”