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“June?”
Alex is adorable in a bright purple dress with more ribbons in her hair. “Ready to go?”
“You look happy,” Alex says.
I hesitate. “I just found out I can meet with a college counselor online, without having to leave.”
“A college counselor?” Alex scrunches up her nose. “Aren’t you…?”
“Old? I know, but lots of older people study. I want to become a teacher so—”
“No, I meant, aren’t you going to stay in Heatstroke?”
I hesitate. “My plan was to stay for the summer. I love it here, especially spending time with you, but I have to start doing something with my life.”
“But being my nanny is doing something.” Alex folds her arms.
“I know. It’s the best,” I say, “but you won’t need me after the summer is over.”
“It’s not the same.” Alex takes a step forward. “I want you to stay.”
“Honey.” I wrap my arms around her and hug her tight, an ache starting up in my throat. “I’m not going anywhere for the next few months. And I promise when I do, I’ll come back and visit.” Is that really a promise I can keep?
“You swear?” Alex asks.
I gnaw on my bottom lip.
“Swear on fried pickles?”
I laugh. “Sure, I swear on fried pickles with ranch.”
Alex seems satisfied by the answer. I wipe tears off her cheeks, and she gives me a watery grin. “Congratulations, June.”
“Oh, thank you. You’re too sweet. But nothing exciting has happened yet. It’s just a consultation call.”
“It’s good news, though, right?”
“Right.” I’m grateful for this little sweetheart. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to know her, and it makes me even angrier that her mother chose not to be a part of her life. “Let’s get to Daisy’s.”
We’re on the way to Ol’ Rusty when my mother opens her front door.
“June!” Mom’s voice is a rasp.
Keys in hand, I stop on the sidewalk.
Mom stands behind her picket fence, her arms folded, her robe stained and worn. I place myself between her and Alex. “Hey, Mom, what do you need?”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m running errands,” I say. “Is there something—?”
“I need you to come over right now,” my mother says, in that tone I associate with punishment. Punishment if I don’t do what she wants. “Dishwasher has stopped working and I need you to clean out the sludge.” The unspoken words are there. “You owe me.”
“Ew,” Alex whispers.
“Speak when spoken to,” my mother snaps at her.
“Don’t talk to Alex like that,” I say, shrugging the purse farther up my shoulder. “And if you need help with your dishwasher, you should probably call a technician.”
