VISIBILITY SUCKS. The rain, if possible, is coming down even harder. I have this brief vision of it pummelingthe car so hard it crunches like an empty Coke can, and just like that it’s harder for me to breathe. It takes asecond for me to realize that this has nothing to do with the shitty weather or latent claustrophobia, but withthe fact that my throat is only half as wide as usual, tears hardening it like an artery, so that everything I doand say involves twice as much work.
I have been medically emancipated for a whole half hour now. Campbell says the rain is a blessing, it’s keptthe reporters away. Maybe they will find me at the hospital and maybe they won’t, but by then I will be withmy family and it won’t really matter. My parents left before us; we had to fill out the stupid paperwork.
Campbell offered to drop me off when we were through, which is nice considering I know he wants nothingmore than to hook up with Julia, which they seem to think is some tremendous mystery, but so isn’t. I wonderwhat Judge does, when it’s the two of them. I wonder if he feels left out.
“Campbell?” I ask, out of nowhere. “What do you think I should do?”
He doesn’t pretend to not know what I’m talking about. “I just fought very hard at a trial for your right tochoose, so I’m not going to tell you what I think.”
“Great,” I say, settling deep into my seat. “I don’t even know who I really am.”
“I know who you are. You’re the premier doorknob caddy in all of Providence Plantations. You’ve got a wisemouth, and you pick the crackers out of the Chex Mix, and you hate math and…”
It’s kind of cool, watching Campbell try to fill in all the blanks.
“…you like boys?” he finishes, but that one’s a question.
“Some of them are okay,” I admit, “but they probably all grow up to be like you.”
He smiles. “God forbid.”
“What are you going to do next?”
Campbell shrugs. “I may actually have to take on a paying case.”
“So you can continue to support Julia in the style to which she’s accustomed?”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “Something like that.”
It gets quiet for a moment, so all I can hear is the squelch of the windshield wipers. I slip my hands under mythighs, sit on them. “What you said at the trial…do you really think I’ll be amazing in ten years?”
“Why, Anna Fitzgerald, are you fishing for compliments?”
“Forget I said anything.”
He glances at me. “Yes, I do. I imagine you’ll be breaking guy’s hearts, or painting in Montmartre, or flyingfighter jets, or hiking through undiscovered countries.” He pauses. “Maybe all of the above.”
There was a time when, like Kate, I’d wanted to be a ballerina. But since then I’ve gone through a thousanddifferent stages: I wanted to be an astronaut. I wanted to be a paleontologist. I wanted to be a backup singerfor Aretha Franklin, a member of the Cabinet, a Yellowstone National Park ranger. Now, based on the day, Isometimes want to be a microsurgeon, a poet, a ghost hunter.
Only one thing’s a constant. “Ten years from now,” I say, “I’d like to be Kate’s sister.
I have been medically emancipated for a whole half hour now. Campbell says the rain is a blessing, it’s keptthe reporters away. Maybe they will find me at the hospital and maybe they won’t, but by then I will be withmy family and it won’t really matter. My parents left before us; we had to fill out the stupid paperwork.
Campbell offered to drop me off when we were through, which is nice considering I know he wants nothingmore than to hook up with Julia, which they seem to think is some tremendous mystery, but so isn’t. I wonderwhat Judge does, when it’s the two of them. I wonder if he feels left out.
“Campbell?” I ask, out of nowhere. “What do you think I should do?”
He doesn’t pretend to not know what I’m talking about. “I just fought very hard at a trial for your right tochoose, so I’m not going to tell you what I think.”
“Great,” I say, settling deep into my seat. “I don’t even know who I really am.”
“I know who you are. You’re the premier doorknob caddy in all of Providence Plantations. You’ve got a wisemouth, and you pick the crackers out of the Chex Mix, and you hate math and…”
It’s kind of cool, watching Campbell try to fill in all the blanks.
“…you like boys?” he finishes, but that one’s a question.
“Some of them are okay,” I admit, “but they probably all grow up to be like you.”
He smiles. “God forbid.”
“What are you going to do next?”
Campbell shrugs. “I may actually have to take on a paying case.”
“So you can continue to support Julia in the style to which she’s accustomed?”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “Something like that.”
It gets quiet for a moment, so all I can hear is the squelch of the windshield wipers. I slip my hands under mythighs, sit on them. “What you said at the trial…do you really think I’ll be amazing in ten years?”
“Why, Anna Fitzgerald, are you fishing for compliments?”
“Forget I said anything.”
He glances at me. “Yes, I do. I imagine you’ll be breaking guy’s hearts, or painting in Montmartre, or flyingfighter jets, or hiking through undiscovered countries.” He pauses. “Maybe all of the above.”
There was a time when, like Kate, I’d wanted to be a ballerina. But since then I’ve gone through a thousanddifferent stages: I wanted to be an astronaut. I wanted to be a paleontologist. I wanted to be a backup singerfor Aretha Franklin, a member of the Cabinet, a Yellowstone National Park ranger. Now, based on the day, Isometimes want to be a microsurgeon, a poet, a ghost hunter.
Only one thing’s a constant. “Ten years from now,” I say, “I’d like to be Kate’s sister.