Кристин Ханна – Rirefly Lane / Улица Светлячков. Книга для чтения на английском языке (страница 16)
“Yeah,” she said, fisting her hands at her sides.
“Ms. Gulligan here has found a lovely family for you. You’ll be one of several displaced teens in their care. The excellent news is that you’ll be able to continue in your current school placement. I’m sure that makes you happy.”
“Ecstatic.”
Mr. Baker looked momentarily nonplussed by her response. “Of course. Now. As to your inheritance. Ima left all her assets – both homes, the car, the bank accounts, and stocks – to you. She has left instructions for you to continue with the monthly payments to her daughter, Dorothy. Your grandmother believed it was the best and only way to keep track of her. Dorothy has proven to be very reliable at keeping in touch when there’s money coming.” He cleared his throat. “Now… if we sell both homes, you won’t have to worry about finances for quite some time. We can take care—”
“But then I won’t have a home at all.”
“I’m sorry about that, but Ima was very specific in her request. She wanted you to be able to go to any college.” He looked up. “You’re going to win the Pulitzer[94] someday. Or that’s what she told me.”
Tully couldn’t believe she was going to cry again, and in front of these people. She popped to her feet. “I need to go to the restroom.”
A frown pleated Mr. Baker’s pale forehead. “Oh. Certainly. Downstairs. First door to the left of the front door.”
Tully got up from her chair, grabbed her suitcase, and made her halting way to the door. Once in the hallway, she shut the door behind her and leaned against the wall, trying not to cry.
Foster care[95] could
She glanced down at the date on her Bicentennial wristwatch.
The Mularkeys would be home tomorrow.
Chapter seven
The drive home from British Columbia seemed to take forever. The air conditioner in the station wagon was broken, so warm air tumbled from the useless vents. Everyone was hot and tired and dirty. And still Mom and Dad wanted to sing songs. They kept bugging the kids to sing along.
Kate couldn’t stand how lame it was. “Mom, will you
Her brother burped and started laughing. The dog barked wildly.
In the front seat, Dad leaned forward and turned on the radio. John Denver’s voice floated through the speakers with “Thank God I’m a Country Boy.”
“That’s all I’m singing, Margie. If they don’t want to join in… fine.”
Kate returned to her book. The car bounced so much the words danced on the page, but that didn’t matter; not with as many times as she’d read
“Katie. Kathleen.”
She looked up. “Yeah?”
“We’re home,” her dad said. “Put that dang book down and help us unload the car.”
“Can I call Tully first?”
“No. You’ll unpack first.”
Kate slapped her book shut. For seven days she’d been waiting to make that call. But unloading the car was more important. “Fine. But Sean better help.”
Her mother sighed. “You just worry about yourself, Kathleen.”
They piled out of the smelly station wagon and began the end-of-vacation ritual. By the time they finished, it was dark. Kate put the last of her clothes into the pile on the laundry room floor, started the first load, then went to find her Mom, who was sitting on the sofa with Dad. They were leaning against each other, looking dazed.
“Can I call Tully now?”
Dad consulted his watch. “At nine-thirty? I’m sure her grandmother would really appreciate that.”
“But—”
“Goodnight, Katie,” her dad said firmly, looping his arm around Mom and pulling her close.
“This is so not fair.”
Mom laughed. “Whoever told you life would be fair? Now go to bed.”
For almost four hours Tully stood at the corner of her house, watching the Mularkeys unload their car. She’d thought about running up the hill a dozen times, just showing up, but she wasn’t ready for the boisterousness of the whole family just yet. She wanted to be alone with Kate, someplace quiet where they could talk.
So she waited until the lights went out and then crossed the street. In the grass beneath Kate’s window, she waited another thirty minutes, just to be sure.
Off to her left somewhere, she could hear Sweetpea nickering at her and pawing at the ground. No doubt the old mare was looking for company, too. During the camping trip a neighbor had fed the horse, but that wasn’t the same as being loved.
“I know, girl,” Tully said, sitting down. She wrapped her arms around her bent legs, hugging herself. Maybe she should have called instead of stalking them like this. But Mrs. Mularkey might have told her to come by tomorrow, that they were tired from their long drive, and Tully couldn’t wait anymore. This loneliness was more than she could handle by herself.
Finally, at eleven o’clock, she stood up, brushed the grass off her jeans, and threw a piece of gravel at Kate’s window.
It took four tosses before her friend stuck her head out the window. “Tully!” Kate ducked back into her room and slammed the window shut. It took less than a minute for her to appear at the side of the house. Wearing a Bionic Woman[97] nightshirt, her old black-rimmed glasses, and her retainer, Kate ran for Tully, arms outstretched.
Tully felt Kate’s arms wrap around her and for the first time in days, she felt safe.
“I missed you so much,” Kate said, tightening her hold.
Tully couldn’t answer. It was all she could do not to cry. She wondered if Kate knew, really knew, how important their friendship was to her. “I got our bikes,” she said, stepping back, looking away so Kate wouldn’t see her moist eyes.
“Cool.”
Within minutes they were on their way, flying down Summer Hill, their hands outstretched to catch the wind. At the bottom of the hill, they ditched their bikes in the trees and walked down the long and winding road to the river. All around them trees chattered among themselves; the wind sighed, and leaves fluttered down from branches in an early sign of the coming autumn.
Kate flopped down in their old spot, her back rested against the mossy log, her feet stretched out in the grass that had grown tall in their absence.
Tully felt an unexpected pinch of nostalgia for their youth. They’d spent most of one summer here, taking their separate, lonely lives and braiding them into a rope of friendship. She lay down beside Kate, scooting close enough that their shoulders were touching. After the last few days, she needed to know that her best friend was finally beside her. She positioned her transistor radio nearby and turned up the volume.
“Hell Week with Bugs was even worse than usual,” Kate said. “I did talk Sean into eating a slug, though. It was worth the week’s allowance I lost.” She giggled. “You should have seen his face when I started laughing. Aunt Georgia tried to talk to me about birth control[98]. Can you believe it? She said I should—”
“Do you even know how lucky you are?” The words were out before Tully could stop them, spilling like jelly beans from a machine.
Kate shifted her weight and turned, until she was lying sideways in the grass, looking at Tully. “You usually want to hear everything about the camping trip.”
“Yeah, well. I’ve had a bad week.”
“Did you get fired?”
“That’s your idea of a bad week? I want your perfect life, just for a day.”
Kate drew back, frowning. “You sound pissed at me.”
“Not at you.” Tully sighed. “You’re my best friend.”
“So, who are you mad at?”
“Cloud. Gran. God. Take your pick.” She took a deep breath and said, “Gran died while you were gone.”
“Oh, Tully.”
And there it was, what Tully had been waiting for all week. Someone who loved her and was truly sorry for her. Tears stung her eyes; before she knew it, she was crying. Big, gulping sobs that wracked her body and made it impossible to breathe, and all the while, Kate held her, letting her cry, saying nothing.
When there were no tears left inside, Tully smiled shakily. “Thanks for not saying you felt sorry for me.”
“I am, though.”
“I know.” Tully lay back against the log and stared up at the night sky. She wanted to admit that she was scared and that as alone as she’d sometimes felt in life, she knew now what real loneliness was, but she couldn’t say the words, not even to Kate. Thoughts – even fears – were airy things, formless until you made them solid with your voice, and once given that weight, they could crush you.
Kate waited a moment, then said, “So what will happen?”
Tully wiped her eyes and reached into her pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one up, she took a drag and coughed. It had been years since she’d smoked. “I have to go into foster care. It’s only for a while, though. When I’m eighteen I can live alone.”
“You’re not going to live with strangers,” Kate said fiercely. “I’ll find Cloud and make her do the right thing.”