Sign Language by Amy Ackley

Sign Language by Amy Ackley

Author:Amy Ackley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2011-06-22T00:00:00+00:00


SEVENTEEN

July

After the funeral, Aunt Marlene had invited the Norths to their house in Curtisville, a small rural town a few hours north of Highland. Mom had declined, saying she needed a little time to herself, but she called Marlene up that morning to tell her she’d reconsidered. There wasn’t much for Abby to do in Curtisville but play with her four- and fiveyear-old cousins, Katie and Krissy, and take walks in the woods. Abby wasn’t too thrilled at the prospect of visiting family—she’d had enough of that to last a year, at least—but it would suffice. Getting away was all that mattered.

Abby and Josh quickly packed and hopped into the TrailBlazer. Josh sat in the passenger seat; Abby was in the back. It didn’t much bother her that Josh had assumed he automatically rode shotgun; she enjoyed having the backseat to herself. Mom didn’t even protest when Abby loosened her seat belt, stretched her legs out, and relaxed.

Relaxation didn’t come as easily to Mom. In fact, it didn’t come at all. She made her best attempts at conversation at first, asking about school and softball and their friends and whatnot, feigning excitement over her upcoming return to work, but about an hour into the trip she fell silent. Abby attempted to keep up the light banter, but after receiving countless replies like “Mm-hmm” and “Uh-huh,” she gave up.

When they were less than twenty miles from Curtisville, Mom stopped for gas. While Josh filled the tank, she sighed and said, “I want to go home.”

“But, Mom,” Abby protested, “we’re almost there.”

“This doesn’t feel right.” Mom covered her face with her hands. “Nothing feels right.”

Abby leaned forward and rested her chin on the back of the seat, placing her hand on Mom’s shoulder as she wept.

Josh paid for the gas with the fifty Mom had given him, and when he climbed into the car to find her crying, he glared at Abby.

“What did you say?” Josh barked.

“Nothing!”

“She didn’t say anything,” Mom said. “It’s not her fault. I just want to go home.” She sounded like a homesick kid.

Abby felt homesick, too, yearning for the old days when she used to believe that her parents were omnipotent. They were the shield she could hide behind when the world got scary, but now a whole piece of the shield had been torn away, and the rest was cracked.

Using his now fine-tuned negotiation skills, Josh was able to convince their mother to continue on to Aunt Marlene’s. If, after they got there and said hello, she still wanted to go home, they’d leave without argument. Spending another three hours in the car only to turn around was without a doubt the last thing Abby wanted to do, but she didn’t have a seat at the bargaining table.

They made it in time for lunch. Uncle Bob fixed burgers on the grill while Aunt Marlene boiled corn on the cob and whipped up a tuna salad in the kitchen, filling the room with nervous chatter about this, that, and the other thing.



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