13 Little Blue Envelopes(49)

That couldn’t be it. This was Piet. This was The Night Watch.

But Piet just scratched at his lower lip and scanned the room, already detached from the conversation.

“Right,” she said. “Thanks.”

Back at Het Kleine Huis, Ginny dug through her bag and

tried to figure out which of her clothes were the cleanest—which was a tough call.

“I’ve got some great news!” Mrs. Knapp said, bursting through the door without knocking, startling Ginny. “Something big for our last day together! A bike ride! To Delft! Our treat!”

“Delft?” Ginny asked.

“It’s one of the other big towns. So, lots of rest tonight!

We’ll be getting up early! Tell Olivia the good news!”

Bang. Door shut. She was gone.

221





The Secret Life of Olivia Knapp

Early the next morning, they were on a tram out to the far edge of Amsterdam. Ginny liked the tram. It was like an overgrown toy train that had gotten loose on the streets. She looked out the window and saw the Netherlands wobbling by—its ancient houses and constant canals and people in practical shoes.

One thing that the Knapps hadn’t said but Ginny could

abundantly feel (really feel—like it was physically coming in through the back of her head) was that though they liked her enough, they were glad that she wasn’t their child. Or rather, if she had been, things would have been different. She would have been roboting herself out of bed at six in the morning automatically. She wouldn’t have dragged her feet on the mad rush from place to place. She would have sung show tunes. She would have liked running or at least thinking about running.

And she definitely would have been more excited about riding a bike for fifteen miles. She knew this last one for certain because 223

they kept asking her, “Aren’t you excited, Ginny? A bike ride?

Isn’t that great? Aren’t you excited?”

Ginny said that she was excited, but she also kept yawning, and the expression on her face probably told the whole story: she didn’t like bikes. In fact, she hated bikes. She hadn’t always hated bikes. She and Miriam had gone everywhere on their bikes when they were kids, but that had all stopped one day when they were twelve, and Ginny’s bike decided not to stop as she took a big hill and she was forced to turn hard and wipe out on the asphalt to keep from running into traffic.

She tried not to think about this as she was being saddled onto a bike that was much too big for her. The tour director said it was because she was such a “big—I mean tall big— girl.” So that meant all the shorter people got bikes that were right for their height, and she got the big girl bike that was left.

And she wasn’t even that tall, anyway. Olivia was taller.

This was obviously “single Ginny out” day.

The ride to Delft was fairly easy, even for her, since the Netherlands was flat as a board. She only felt herself teetering off her towering bicycle once or twice, and that was only when she sped up a little to put some distance between herself and the Knapps, who were singing every song they could think of that referenced bikes, or riding, or going somewhere.

Delft turned out to be a beautiful town, a miniature version of Amsterdam. It was one of those places so absurdly cool that Ginny knew that either through legalities or luck, she would never, ever be able to live there. The citizenry simply would not permit it.

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Also, they had wooden shoes in one of the first shops they got to. Mrs. Knapp was thrilled. Ginny just wanted to sit down, so she crossed the street (the canal, really) and sat down on a bench. To her surprise, Olivia joined her.

“Who were you writing to yesterday?” Olivia asked.

Maybe it was the shock of Olivia showing a sudden burst of actual personality that caused what happened next.

“My boyfriend,” Ginny said. “I was writing to my boyfriend, Keith.”

Okay. So she was lying, kind of. She didn’t even know

why she was lying. Maybe just to hear it out loud. Keith . . . my boyfriend.

“I thought so,” Olivia said. “I was doing that too. I can’t call like Phil.”

“Why can’t you call your boyfriend?”

“No.” Olivia shook her head. “It’s not like that.”

“Not like what?”

“It’s just . . . I have a girlfriend.”

From across the street, Mr. and Mrs. Knapp were gesturing wildly, pointing down to their feet. They were each wearing brightly colored wooden shoes.

“My parents would off themselves if they knew,” Olivia said meditatively. “They’d totally hang themselves from the rafters.

They notice everything but what’s right in front of them.”

“Oh . . .”

“Does that freak you out?” Olivia said.

“No,” Ginny said quickly. “I think it’s great. You know. That you’re gay. It’s great.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

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“No,” Ginny corrected herself. “Right.”

Mr. Knapp broke into a little dance. Olivia sighed. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the embarrassing spectacle.

Then the Knapps disappeared into another store.

“I think Phil’s guessed,” Olivia said glumly. “He keeps asking me about Michelle. Phil’s kind of an asshole . . . I guess. I mean, he’s my brother. But still. Don’t say anything.”