Girls in Pants - Ann Brashares [86]
Annik said the word artist like it was the best possible thing you could say of someone. Better than being a superhero or an immortal.
“Thank you. I think.”
“It’s not like it’s a gift I’m giving you. You did it yourself.”
“You helped.”
“I hope so. You’ve done more and better than I imagined.”
“I’m getting there. I’m really beginning to think so.”
“You are. I can see it. I can feel it.”
Lena smiled at the thought of all the seeing and feeling that went on in this room. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Annik said.
“I’ve been wondering for a long time. I feel like I should probably just ask.”
Annik nodded encouragingly, almost like she knew what Lena was going to say.
“Why are you in a wheelchair?”
Annik clapped her on the back in her Incredible Hulk way. “God, I thought you’d never ask me.”
Win was waiting outside her apartment building with the car running. Carmen had never imagined there would be a boy with whom she would want to go to Target to shop for school stuff. It was yet another project they had together, more light-hearted than some.
Carmen burst through the front door to collect her shopping list and her debit card. She’d forgotten to bring them when a bunch of them had met for breakfast—Tibby, Brian, Lena, Effie, and Win—at the Tastee Diner a couple of hours before.
Carmen slowed to a pause in the living room. She was struck by how different the apartment felt to her in these days since Win, since the baby. The walls felt closer in and yet the floor seemed slightly farther away. It was quiet. For once the air conditioners were mute. The tiniest hint of autumn blew in the open window. Maybe that was why the air felt new to her.
She was in a hurry; she had things to do. This apartment waited for her nonetheless. It always waited.
She knew that when she turned the corner of the hallway she would find her mother in her room with the baby. And there she was. She and baby Ryan were curled up in the bed.
They spent their mornings nursing and sleeping. Carmen often visited them in her free moments, kissing the baby’s fists and swaddling him like a burrito before he kicked his way out again. Now Christina was sleeping, and Ryan was starting to wriggle. Carmen put her hand on his miniature back, admiring the efforts of her small brother.
She felt so different about him than she had expected. He was hers, and she ached at his fragility and his temper and the shape of his ears, already just like hers. But she also respected that he was Christina and David’s.
She had expected, before he was born, that he would be part of her old world, vying for her space and all that she claimed. But he wasn’t. He belonged to the new world. They both did, together.
Bridget’s victory wasn’t so sweet. Well, except for her players. It was sweet for them. They strode around the camp like superheroes for the rest of the week, clucking and retelling the major points of the game (there weren’t many). She was happy for them. She had grown to love them.
She’d had a blessed, one-day return home to Bethesda, and seeing her friends made her feel like life made sense again. When she came back to camp, she hung out with Diana and slept and ate, building up her strength again. She knew she could withstand her injured heart, but it took work, and in some moments, a lot of faith.
She realized she wasn’t completely finished with Eric. She could keep her sadness to herself and wonder forever what had really happened. Two summers before, she had been mute. She had taken it all upon herself and let it churn and spoil inside of her. But she didn’t feel like doing that anymore.
She waited until the camp was mostly quiet and went searching for him in his cabin. It brought back memories of a certain other experience long ago, fetching him from his bed. That time she went in after him. This time she was prim as a pilgrim. She knocked politely and waited.
He came to the door and opened it. Did he look slightly