room. The palms of my hands burn from the carpet.
I stand up slowly, try to focus on something other than my racing thoughts. The street lamp above Aunt Lauraâs car lights the rain that falls on the street. I stare out for a long time, picture myself leaving the house, running out there, actually looking. What would I find? My eyelids get heavy and I shuffle back to bed. This time I only dream of blackness.
Chapter 3
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hey dude â comix doesnât have the issue of War Machines you asked about. hadnât even heard of it. i found a bunch of old x-men issues, though. i could send you some. weâre going to france tomorrow to see my cousin. i hear french girls are pretty friendly if you know what i mean. youâll get my report!
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I water Soleilâs plants every day, Even though I know Iâm not supposed to over-water them or theyâll die. I snoop around her apartment a little while Iâm there. She and Libby are pretty messy. Laundry is piled on her bed and there are dusty books everywhere. Libbyâs got games and an artistâs easel, but thatâs about it. The suite only has one bedroom. Thereâs a single bed behind a curtain in a corner of the living room. At first I think Libby must sleep there, but then I realize Libbyâs got the bedroom, right under Aunt Lauraâs.
Soleilâs plants are really big and overgrown â one has legs made of baby plants that reach to the floor, even though itâs on a stool. I call it The Thing. In the kitchen thereâs a jar of mini chocolate bars and I take a few. I think about watching TV down here, with the place to myself, but I can do that upstairs too â Aunt Lauraâs at work. I find a stack of oldsketchbooks beside Libbyâs bed and look through them. Itâs mostly birds and flowers and sometimes faces, but I have to admit, sheâs not bad. Iâm no artist, but Libbyâs got some talent. I just wish she didnât stalk me with it. I make sure the sketchbooks are back in the same order and in the same spot.
Each day seems to last twice as long as it should. On Wednesday I risk Aunt Lauraâs wrath and rearrange the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling into new constellations. I just make them up, trying to remember what my dad used to say about them, but they donât stick well anymore and finally I have to toss them in the garbage. I try not to see my dadâs face in my mind as I do it. I wonder how long it will take for Aunt Laura to notice the peeled-off paint. I find two new adoptable dogs â Rusty and Ben â to add to my list. Aunt Laura tries to suggest more camps and clubs, but I just walk away and eventually she stops. I build a skate ramp and practise new tricks but almost break my nose. I take a photo of my bloody face and send it to Grant. He emails back a shot of himself on a beach in France. I watch
Old Yeller
but turn it off before they have to shoot the dog.
On Thursday I wander over to Mahon Park and check the notice board. The blue stickie is gone and there are no other jobs posted. Someoneâs left a pair of sunglasses on the railing and I take them. On my way home I go into the corner store to buy a slushie. Grant and I used to get one for free because the people behind the counter never paid attention. Iâd go up and pay for mine and Grant would sneak out with his under his shirt. Today I push my coins across the counter and watch the stocky, shaggy-haired guy drop them into the cash register. He looks like heâs in high school, probably working here for the summer. For a secondI think of asking if I could get a job. How hard could it be to work at a corner store? I bet he gets free slushies.
âUh, you okay?â The guy is staring at me.
âYeah, fine,â I mumble.
âAt least youâve got a summer, man. Iâm stuck in here all day.â
âMust suck,â I say.
Do it
, I think.
Ask about a