A Million Miles From Boston by Karen Day

Author:Karen Day [Day, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Ages 8 & Up
ISBN: 9780375896903
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2011-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

he PT wore the ugliest bathing suit I’d ever seen, blue with big yellow sunflowers. I couldn’t stop looking at it as we all stood on the dock, waiting for Mr. Ramsey to take us tubing. She talked about how beautiful the Point was, how she’d never been tubing. Every time she laughed, her shoulders shook and the sunflowers bounced.

“I’m nervous. Lucy, do you have any pointers?” she asked. Dad smiled at me.

“No,” I said. Then I stomped up to the cottage.

I sat at the computer and wrote Mei, telling her that Ian had a friend here, although I didn’t know who. Then I pushed away from the computer and picked up Dad’s manuscript.

Eagles were such a big deal on the Point that Dad had given them a whole chapter. I read about how they mate for life and return to their nests every spring to make them stronger for their babies. Dad had written in the margin How quickly does eagle find new mate after first mate dies?

I stopped reading.

If an eagle mates for life, how can it just go out and find a replacement?

I jumped up and went to my room, Superior behind me. I threw myself on my bed, burying my face in my quilt.

A sob filled my chest. Dad was in love with the PT.

Would they get married? A girl from school said that when her dad remarried, her stepmom repainted the whole house and got new furniture.

I loved the leather couch in our living room back in Boston, even with the screwdriver holes in the cushion. And I wouldn’t let her fix the cracks on my bedroom ceiling.

If they got married, she’d live up here, too. In our cottage.

Superior put her nose on my bed and I reached over and rubbed her head, closing my eyes. I must have dozed off, because when I opened them, the sun was shining across my floor at a different angle. Superior was asleep on the rug.

I wiped my sweaty forehead on my quilt and watched it turn a checked octagon dark blue. Dad said this piece of the quilt came from a bandanna Mom had worn. I knew where every octagon came from. The S on the gray background was from Mom’s Smith College shirt. The pink flowers were from her sundress. The denim was from her jeans.

A knock.

“Lucy?” The PT. I stuffed the quilt into a ball and opened the door.

Her long white arms and legs were splotchy with sunburn and she wore red lipstick that made her mouth look huge. In her ears were silver hoop earrings. I brought my hand to my right ear and twisted my stud.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said.

“It’s okay.” But I didn’t invite her in.

“I know this sounds crazy, but … Well, I think someone is spying on the cottage.”

This was the last thing I’d expected. She walked in and leaned over my desk to look out the window. I leaned next to her. The lotion she had on smelled like herbs, the kind Mrs.

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