I crouched behind a neighbor’s hedge and watched them for ten or fifteen minutes, and man, the longer I watched, the madder I got.
My grandfather had already said more to her in this little slice of time
than he’d said to me the whole year and a half he’d been living with us. What was his deal with Juli Baker?
I took the back way home, which involved climbing two fences and kicking off the neighbor’s stupid little terrier,
but it was worth it, considering I avoided the garden party across the street.
Again I got no homework done. The more I watched them, the madder I got.
I was still a cluck-faced jerk, while Juli was laughing it up with my grandfather.
Had I ever seen him smile? Really smile? I don’t think so! But now he was knee-high in nettles, laughing.
At dinner that night he’d showered and changed back into his regular clothes and house slippers, but he didn’t look the same.
It was like someone had plugged him in and turned on the light.
“Good evening,” he said as he sat down with the rest of us. “Oh, Patsy, that looks delicious!”
“Well, Dad,” my mom said with a laugh, “your excursion across the street seems to have done you a world of good.”
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