It's Not About the Accent by Caridad Ferrer

Author:Caridad Ferrer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Published: 2007-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Act II

18

A light breeze lifted my hair away from my neck, the sun warm on my skin. This was perfect Indian summer weather. The beginnings of the season I lived for, all golden light and crisp air and a vibe that brought to mind football and comfort foods like stews and hot cocoa and warm pies with ice cream. An orange-tinged leaf drifted down into my lap—no doubt from one of the tree branches that hung over my spot on the patio. Picking it up, I twirled it around on its stem, studying the shadings and tracings of the veins before setting it aside and returning my attention to my laptop.

A second later, it went airborne again, twirling much the way it had when I held it.

“This is going to be so weird, seeing leaves change for the first time.”

I smiled at Peter’s reflection in the screen as he studied the leaf. Then his reflection smiled back.

“May I?”

I practically knocked my chair over, standing to give him the hug I’d had in reserve for more than a month.

“Hi.”

“You came back.”

I let him go and dropped back into my chair while he took the one across from me. He set his backpack on one of the free chairs and opened his bag from the Organic Llama. Just like always.

“It was a near thing, to the point where I was literally on my way to my first class at Summit before I changed my mind, but yeah, I came back.”

His head was down as he rummaged around in the bag, making his “I wasn’t sure you were going to” come out quiet.

My voice was just as quiet as I replied, “Obviously, neither was I.”

“So what tipped the scales?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “My brother being a jerk.”

Peter looked up from unwrapping his sandwich. “I thought he was up in Illinois.”

“He was home on break and didn’t have anything better to do with his time than accuse me of hiding out. Basically dared me to come back to school. Insufferable twerp knows I never back down from dares.”

Behind the rims of his sunglasses I could see his brows drawing together. “Caro, after what you went through, no one could possibly blame you—”

“He was right,” I broke in. “God, but I hate admitting when James is right.” I ran my thumb along the edge of the bottled Tazo Peter had handed to me as soon as he sat down. Like he knew I’d be right here, just like always. Glancing up with a smile, I added, “Not that it happens that often.”

Peter snorted and shook his head. “Sisters. You’re all alike.” But his face relaxed into a smile as he pushed half his sandwich toward me.

“Yeah, yeah.” Closing my laptop, I slid it to one side and pulled the sandwich closer. “Like you brothers are any better.”

“Smoked turkey and Havarti,” he mumbled around a mouthful as I lifted the sandwich and started to peek under the bread.

“You’re a god, Peter.” Especially since my stomach was audibly growling now that it sensed food was in the immediate vicinity.

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