There’s silence. I feel the fierce flush of blood rushing to my cheeks.
“Sorry,” I answer in a small voice. “I . . . I didn’t think.”
“I know, sweetie.” Susie manages a tired smile. “You’re just trying to help. I appreciate that.” She starts pulling away at the wallpaper again, and I go back to my task, my skin still tingling with embarrassment.
I’ve never been one of the rich kids in school, flashing around designer clothes and new iPhones, but suddenly I feel like the worst kind of princess. Going on about expensive plans when they’re already in debt! I scrape harder at the walls, trying to put all my discomfort into the work, but all I can hear is my own voice babbling away with those expensive ideas.
“Want some lemonade?” Susie asks after a moment, her voice bright. She’s humming along to the radio again, as if the whole scene is forgotten.
“I’ll go!” I duck back through to the kitchen, glad of an excuse to get away. As I gather ice and glasses and pour Susie’s homemade lemonade, I feel a tremor of unease. I never thought twice about the cost of my organic food and fair-trade herbal teas back at home. Whatever the price, I figured it was worth it to be environmentally friendly. But that was in New Jersey, surrounded by BMWs, McMansions, and sweet sixteen blowouts. Here in Stillwater, I wonder if all my talk of sustainable eco-friendliness is making me sound like a good Green Teen activist — or just a spoiled brat.
10
Even though Susie doesn’t say another word about our conversation, I find myself trying extra-hard to be sensitive and helpful over the next few days: pitching in with chores and trying not to say another word about Green Teen projects. Even when I see Fiona tossing empty soda cans in with the regular trash, I just bite my lip — and sneak back later to pick them out and put them in a separate recycling bag. Not that it helps melt her cold, cold heart. Nope, eco-speak or no eco-speak, Fiona is as icy with me as when I first arrived.
“Hey, Fi, do you want —?” I come to a stop on the front porch. She’s curled up with a book as usual, wearing an oversize hoodie and a scowl, but Ethan and Grady are there too, loitering in the shade. “Hi, guys! I didn’t know you were here.” I pause, feeling awkward. “Umm, I was just going to break out the Ben & Jerry’s? You want some?”
“No, thanks.” Ethan gives me a vaguely friendly grin, his sunglasses pushed up on the top of his head. Grady ignores me, slouched in one of the wicker rocking chairs. Like his brother, he’s wearing cut-off jeans and a T-shirt, with one of his baseball hats pulled low.
“Well . . . cool.” I linger in the doorway, painfully aware of my sweaty tank top and the baggy shorts I borrowed from Susie to paint in. “So what’s up?”
“Uh, we were actually trying to get Fiona to help out with something.” Again, it’s Ethan who speaks. He leans against the porch rail and shoots Fiona a hopeful look. She snorts.
“And I’m trying to get them to leave me alone.”
Ethan must be used to her sunny disposition, because he just rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I kind of got the idea the other day, after we were talking,” he explains to me while Grady squishes ants with the toe of his sneaker. “All that stuff about outdoor adventures, and Stillwater being the muddy side to nature, you know? I figured there are people out there who are into that kind of thing; we just have to get them into town.” Ethan’s expression is enthusiastic. “So we’re going to make a website about Stillwater. Not the boring stuff, like the town council or whatever, but all the different activities you can do around here. We could take pictures, and shoot video . . .”
“That’s a great idea!” I exclaim.
He shoots Grady and Fiona a satisfied look. “Glad someone thinks so.”
“Whatever.” Fiona flips another page, looking up briefly to frown at him. “Why are you even asking me to help?”
“Because we could have a section for the B and B too. I mean, like advertising for guests, helping them plan their trip.”
“And?” She’s unimpressed.
Ethan sighs. “And, I figured you’d want in. Don’t you want to help out your dad?”
Apparently not. Fiona glares at him. “None of this was his idea — it was all Susie’s. So what if it fails? Maybe then she’d go back to wherever she came from.” She brightens at the thought.
“They’re married.” I speak up, unable to keep the disbelief from my voice.
“Yes. And nearly fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce.” She sounds pleased. “So the odds are pretty much even they won’t last.”
“C’mon, Fi.” Grady finally pitches in, bored with killing innocent bugs. He shifts restlessly, drumming his hands on his knees as if he can’t wait to be moving again. “We’ve got the kayaks all set to go, and Susie’s lending the video camera.”
“You’d just have to paddle around and look like you’re having fun.” Ethan takes up the case. “OK, so maybe not even fun,” he corrects himself. “I could edit around that. But I need someone to be the face of it — to do all the activities and show how great it is around here.”
“And be part of false advertising? No thanks.” Fiona pauses, glancing up with a sly smile. “Why doesn’t she do it?”
The boys look over.
“Uh, that’s OK,” Ethan says quickly. “We can manage by ourselves; it’s no problem.”
“But I could help.” My voice comes out plaintive. “I mean, if you need someone.” I backtrack, forcing a casual shrug. “It could be fun.”
“I don’t know. . . .” Ethan looks at me, his blue eyes dubious. “You ever kayaked before?”
“Well, no,” I admit. “But I’m a fast learner!”
Not convinced, he turns to his brother for input. Grady puts his hands up and smirks. “Dude, this is your thing. Just tell me where to be and when.” He gets up and begins to saunter down the front steps. Ethan wavers.
“I guess . . .”
“It could be a good angle,” I add, trying to convince him. The prospect of freezing water doesn’t exactly fill me with joy, but I’ve been rattling around in this house for days now with no one but Fiona for teenage company. “You know, the newcomer, testing out everything. And I’ve taken some website design classes, so I could even help out with that side of it too, and —” I stop myself before I go too far.