by Nancy Star
“Never mind. Not my business.”
“No, I get it. You’re a mama bear. We both are. Two
mama bears. I don’t really know much about Nathan. I
know he got divorced. I gather it was messy. The main
thing I know? He’s always been kind to Griff. Which
is not nothing. My opinion? You want to know who a
person really is, watch how they treat someone who’s dif-
ferent.” She took a sip of her now lukewarm tea. “Pond
looks so placid. Rec Center looks so welcoming. You’d
never know it’s pressure cooker in there.”
“How so?”
“The expectation is up here.” She raised her hand to
show a high bar. “The kids are supposed to be having the
time of their lives. Summer friendships. Summer romances.
They’re supposed to fall in love there and marry each other in there and have kids and then their kids are supposed to do the same. If you didn’t know, you’d think it was one big party. Swimming and bonfires on the beach. Underneath
that, it’s all hurry up or fall behind. Griffin has the pond in his DNA. Third-generation ponder. And last. He was
never going to make it with that crowd. Even when he
was a little kid, I knew. Too quiet. More interesting, I
told myself. Sweet, for a while. Never friendly. A loner.”
Henry, Lane thought and then stopped. No. She was
the loner. Henry was like his Dad. The mayor of their
building, until his silence shut that down.
“We moved here year-round when Griff turned thir-
teen. That’s when he started saying no to things. No
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baseball. No homework. No showers. Kids at home were
cruel.”
“Was it better here?” Lane heard the eagerness in her
question. She wanted the answer to be yes. She wanted
Henry, who had started making friends at the Rec, to
become mayor again.
“How old is Henry?” Aggie asked.
“Six.”
She nodded. “It’s different story when they’re little.
No one was scared of Griff when he was a little boy. But
now? He’s twenty-four years old and people are terrified
of him. It took me a while to take that in. I mean, he’s
my son. Who wants to think that about their son? I got
an inkling when people started asking me—down at
the newspaper tubes—if everything was okay. A casual
question, right? I’d say fine and go on my way. Peggy
Mellman was the one who finally came out and asked
me if Griff was dangerous. Told me everyone was wor-
ried. That got my attention. Everyone was worried. I said, Tell everyone not to worry. It’s my life that’s the nightmare.
Tactical error, saying that.”
“Why?”
“My nightmare is Griff’s future. What’s going to
happen when I’m gone? But Peggy heard something dif-
ferent. Next thing I know there’s a rumor racing around
the pond that I’m terrified of my son. That’s when I got
the offer. Ten families—out of eighteen—tried to buy me
out. Nathan was not one of them. He called me when he
heard. Asked if there was anything he could do. No mat-
ter what anyone says about him, I’ll never forget that. I
told the rest of them to go to hell. Did you meet Griffin?”
“No. Henry didn’t meet him either. He saw him
through the window of the Rec and he got…”
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“Scared.” Aggie nodded. “Don’t feel bad. Griffin
works out with weights in his room. That was my bad
idea. At the time, I thought it was a brainstorm. Gave him something to do. Now I get it. When Griff walks he’s
silent. His gaze is straight ahead. His arms hang down like deadweight.” She let out a long sigh. “Griffin thinks if he doesn’t make eye contact, if he moves as little as possible when he walks, no one will notice him. I get that too.”
She shook her head. “People here should know better.
They’ve known him since he was a speck.” She took a
final sip. “I told him to stop cleaning the Rec. I’m afraid it won’t end well.”
“Why does he clean the Rec?”
“Another brilliant bad idea. Started when he was four-
teen, the summer after Nathan and Ruth left. Everyone
was so busy being mad at Nathan and Ruth, they didn’t
notice. Nathan and Ruth were like the glue. When they
split up, things fell apart. Wren and Simon split too, but they got back together. But there was that one summer
when they were all gone. All the ringleaders gone. And
everyone stopped going to the Rec. End of an era, people
said. It was almost apocalyptic. The summer of storms.
Trees came down. Branches broke through the Rec’s
windows. Animals started coming in. I watched it hap-
pen from right here. First the birds moved in, then barn
owls nested. Stretch, next door, he was the one who told
me a deer got stuck inside. Me and deer go back a long
time. Griffin came with me to help me get her out. It
was after we got the deer out that Griffin started going
every day. To make sure no other animals were stuck.
While he was there, he’d clean up. The next summer,
after Wren and Simon patched things up and came back,
things returned to how they were, except that Griffin was
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now the cleaning the Rec. I was paying him. To give him
something to do. I told him to get a job but no one would
hire to him to scoop ice cream or be a camp counselor.
They wanted him to stop cleaning the Rec. They still
do. But nobody has the nerve to ask so…” She suddenly
seemed self-conscious. “Sorry. It’s been so long—years,
maybe—since anyone’s come by.”
“Their loss.”
Aggie smiled. “I know it’s hard to have a son who’s
different. People tease them and gang up on them. It’s
the natural order. Peck or be pecked. But it’s a different story when the boy becomes a man. Griffin is the same as
he always was, to me. I still see the little boy. But other people? They see a scary man. You like to swim?”
“Yes.”
“Here’s a tip. If you go in the pond between the hours
of nine and ten every day you’ll practically be alone. That’s when Griffin swims. Same time, rain or shine. Even when
the bacteria level is high, he swims. I can’t stop him. And he never gets sick. He’s got the constitution of an ox. He swims right through the fall. Wears a wet suit when it’s
cold. That was another mistake I made—I guess I’ve made
a lot—getting him a wet suit. He looks even scarier in
that. Either way, in the wet suit or not, no one goes in
that pond when Griff swims. That’s why camp starts at
nine thirty and the kids don’t swim till ten.”
“Because of Griffin?”
Aggie nodded. “He does a good job at the Rec. He
works like his life depends on it. Washes the floor and
the ceiling. Gets on his knees and pulls out every weed
between every paving stone on the path. Got rid of all the poison ivy in the old outhouse one summer even though
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I told him no one uses it anymore.” She rai
sed her chin,
defiant. “I’m proud of him.”
“He’s lucky to have you.”
“Mom?”
And there he was. Despite Griffin’s large size, he’d
approached like a cat, without a sound. Against her will,
Lane felt herself draw back. He was as Aggie described
him. Big, with wide shoulders and muscular arms that
hung straight down. Large hands curled into tight fists.
Thick neck. Square chin. Dark hair hanging half over
his eyes. Eyes pointed straight ahead.
“Mom? I think I have a tick. Do I have a tick? I hope
I don’t.” His voice was deep but his words were those of a child. “What do I do if I have a tick?” He closed his eyes and stuck out his arm. “Can you look? Can you tell me?
Is it a tick? I don’t want a tick. Do I have one?”
Aggie got up and it was all business as she held on to
his arm and examined every bit of him, narrating as she
looked. “That’s just a mole. That’s a scrape from yesterday.
That’s a scar from when you fell out of the tire tree when you were little.” The way she moved and spoke suggested
this wasn’t the first time he’d asked her to check. “Is this what you’re worried about? I want you to look at it. This
is a mosquito bite. It itches, right? That’s because it’s a mosquito bite, not a tick. You’re good.”
“Phew.” Griffin pulled down his sleeves. Only then
did he seem to notice Lane.
Lane stood and introduced herself.
“Griff,” Aggie said. “You know what to do.”
His eyes stayed straight ahead but he extended his arm
and shook the proffered hand.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Lane said.
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“Griff? What do you say?”
Eyes on the ground now. “Thank you.” His voice
was deep but his words were the same ones Henry used
when he felt self-conscious.
Used to use, she corrected herself. Back in the days
when he spoke. Was Henry going to turn into Griffin?
Was Aggie once like Lane? She stood up. “I have to go
home. It’s so nice to meet you both but I’ve got work to—”
“It’s okay,” Aggie said. “No need to make excuses.”
“It’s not an excuse. I do have work to do. But I’d
love you to come over sometime for tea. With Griffin.
Griffin, I’d love you to meet my son, Henry. You’d like
each other. Do you like to draw?”
Griffin stared at his feet and nodded.
“Great. Henry does too. If you come over sometime,
you can draw together.”
Aggie smiled. “You’re very kind.” She looked over at
Griffin, who was scratching his arm so hard it was leaving marks. “Come on, Griff.” She put her hand on the small
of his back. “Let’s go inside and put some Benadryl on
that bite.” She turned and winked at Lane. Then she led
her man-boy into the house.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
At morning drop-off, Lane read the sign outside the Rec.
It wished everyone a happy bastille day and said the
weather would be two umbrellas and a lightning bolt in
the morning, a smiling sun in the afternoon. In bubble
letters at the bottom it announced the good news: hooray,
we can swim! Lane smiled back at the smiley face. Today
she would finally get into the pond to do laps.
She walked briskly back to the house. When she got
there, it was empty. Her mother had already been picked
up; today was her day to volunteer at the memory center.
With the house to herself, she brought her laptop outside
and sat at the small table on the top deck. The gray pond
was a perfect match to the steel-colored sky. The damp
breeze held a mix of pine and honeysuckle. A murder of
crows swooped and settled on a nearby cluster of droop-
ing beetlebung branches and then, a moment later, they
all flew off. Lane opened an email from Summer; the
subject was Podcast News!
“Great news about our Roxie Podcast, ” Summer said. “We finally figured out the format. It will be the two of us in conversation discussing the letter of the day! Awesome right? You’ll speak as Roxie and I’ll speak as me!!! Our working title is, Ask Roxie and Friends!!! I’m the Friends! Awesome right? We’re so excited.
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We think this is the perfect solution for keeping Roxie relevant across all age margins!!! So awesome! ” Summer ended with a series of emojis. Two women holding hands, a smiling
juice box, a purple circle, a ringed planet, a diving mask.
Lane started to decipher it: a team of happy juice box drinkers trying to circle the universe were saying let’s dive in? —and then decided her time was better spent concentrating on
the words. First all the wes and ours; then the abundance of awesomes; finally age margins.
That was a Bert phrase. Bert was the architect of this
news, Summer the messenger.
Lane found the number Sam gave her for his Guild-
Europe phone. As usual, every time she tried it she got
a fast busy signal and then the line went dead. She sent
an email to his most recent address saying, Please cal . I need your help. A moment after she sent it, a new message popped into her in-box. Her face brightened and
then went dark. It wasn’t an answer from Sam. It was
Summer again.
Hi again! Slight change of plans! Roxie Classics are not getting the clicks we’d hoped so we’re going to
have to switch direction. But no worries! The new
direction is just the old direction. Attached are ten
preapproved Roxies. Please answer and return at
your earliest convenience. (You’re going to love
them. They’re awesome. Some of them are totally—
Lane squinted at the emoji. Was it a banana? What
did that mean? Some of them are totally bananas?
Things are super exciting around here! the email
continued. Can’t wait for you to get back! Awesome
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change is in the works! Summer signed off with an emoji
of a smiling cat.
Lane considered deleting the email and attachment and
pretending it never arrived. Things like that happened.
Emails went awry. But if she pretended she never got it,
Summer would just send it again, with more smiley faces
added to her sign-off. So she opened Summer’s folder and
read through nine of the most boring Roxie letters she’d
ever seen—letters no Roxie in her right mind would
answer. The last one was a letter about aliens.
She reread Summer’s email. Awesome change is in the
works? What did that mean?
There weren’t many people she could call to find out
what was happening at the Guild. Ask Roxie was an island. A one-woman island. She had no colleagues and
before Summer was thrust upon her, no staff. She had her
experts—social workers, lawyers and shrinks—but they
would be no help for this. She had her readers, but they
couldn’t tell her anything either. Jem had moved away. She couldn’t call her basset hound–eyed seatmate because she
still didn’t know his name. There was only one other choice.
“Color me surprised,” Hugo said when he picked up
Lane got right to the point. “Summer told me awe-
some change is in the air. What’s happening?”
“Ugh,” Hugo said. “It’s a nightmare. But I’m so glad
you called.” He lowered his voice. “Bert’s after you. He
wants you out. Alyssa told me.”
“Who?”
“Alyssa. You helped her when she first started here.
She loves you. You convinced her to go to the All Aboard
party and she went and—you don’t remember?”
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“Right. The party. Yes.”
“Alyssa is very good friends with Summer now,
which is how she found out that Bert is trying to take
down Sam and everyone on Sam’s team. Which includes
you.” He paused to let her take in the news. “I’ve been
wanting to call you and tell you what I heard but I
didn’t think you’d want to hear it, being that it’s just a rumor and all. Do you?” She didn’t, but said she did.
He whispered the rest. “The rumor is Bert told Summer
to steal a letter from the advice columnist at the Times to pass along to you. Not the current columnist. From
the archives.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s a purge. Like I said, he’s trying to get rid of all
Sam’s people. The rumor is this is exactly what he did to
Roxie One. I don’t know if that’s true but— Hold on.”
Hugo shouted out a friendly hello. “Of course, Bert, I’ll
be right there.” There was a moment of silence and then
he got back on the phone. “Be careful, Lane. Don’t trust
Bert. And don’t trust Summer.”
“Where’s Sam?” she asked him. “He’s not answering
my emails. The number he gave me for his Guild-Europe
phone isn’t working.”
“He’s not in Europe. He’s in Asia. Guild-Europe is now
Guild-Asia. I think it’s going to end up Guild-Global. I
don’t think he has any idea what’s going on here. Ugh.
Hold on.” Again, a change in tone. “Sure. Be there in a
sec.” He whispered to Lane: “Got to go. Watch your step.”
h h
h h
Lane stared at her laptop, as if she could get Sam to answer her email through force of will. Instead an alert floated
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across the top of her screen. Another update from Summer.
The subject this time: Roxie Alert! Second batch of most
awesome letters ever!!!
Okay. There was no way for her to know for sure if