in the shed,” said Tina.
“Or you could come with us,” said my mom.
“We’re getting haircuts,” added Tina.
“You could get one too,” said my mom. “Maybe you want something a little more, you know, summer fun and flirty than what you have now?”
Because what I have now is so … what, winter despair and spinsterish? “Thanks, Mom, but I think I’ll pass.”
“Okay,” she said. “Well, I’m going to go get dressed.”
“Me too,” said Tina, and she headed inside.
I wandered through the kitchen and into the living room in search of something to read. There must have been two thousand books, almost all of which I’d never read, most of which I’d never even heard of. It was kind of intimidating. I took a book called Lolita off the shelf. It was by a guy named Vladimir Nabokov, and I’d at least heard of it, but I wasn’t sure what it was about, just that it was supposed to be dirty or something. I opened it and read the first line. Lolita. Light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul …
“There’s a great library in town.”
I jumped about a mile, dropping the book in my surprise.
“Sorry,” said Tina, coming into the living room. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I was just … reading.” I wondered if I should have asked before taking one of the books off the shelf, and I went to put it back.
“It’s fine,” she said. “Help yourself to whatever you’d like.” She didn’t check to see what I’d taken, which I thought was pretty cool. My mother definitely would have been all, What are you looking at? “But there’s also a wonderful little library in town. If you’re a book lover, you might like to browse there. It’s very old school.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
Tina walked toward the kitchen, then stopped and turned around. “Hey,” she said, “I meant to ask you this yesterday. I know it isn’t exactly what we talked about when we discussed your wanting a regular tennis game, but would you be interested in giving tennis lessons?”
“I wouldn’t be not interested,” I said. “But I’ve never given a lesson before.” I tried to picture myself telling some little girl to pull her racket back and keep her shoulder to the net like my dad used to tell me. It wasn’t exactly brain surgery.
“Well, I’ll give you the details, and you can decide. My friend’s husband has been trying to give their daughter lessons, and it’s been a little … tense. She was thinking maybe another teenager could reach Natasha better than her dad can.”
“She’s a teenager?” I’d been picturing someone about four feet tall who might mistake me for an actual grown-up.
“Well, just. She’s thirteen. She’s kind of a funny kid.” Tina shook her head at something.
“Funny ha-ha or funny weird?”
“Ummm …” said Tina. Despite what she’d just said, I got the feeling she wasn’t giving me all the details. “Let’s just say that for what it’s worth, I think she’d like you. She’s really a nice girl who’s going through a bit of a stage. We know the family from New York.”
Tina crossed to a small table by the window and took a pad out of the top drawer. She wrote something on it, then held out a piece of paper. “Here’s Carol’s number,” she said. “That’s Natasha’s mom. We didn’t talk too much about money, but my guess is she’d pay you twenty dollars for an hour lesson.”
Twenty dollars an hour?! I forced myself not to snatch the paper out of Tina’s hand. “I’ll call her,” I said. “Thanks.”
“No, thank you ,” said Tina. “Natasha’s a really sweet girl. I think she could use a friend like you.”
I decided to be flattered that Tina thought I could reach out to her friend’s daughter, instead of insulted that she thought I could be friends with a thirteen-year-old.
When I turned on my phone, there was a new message on my voice mail. I hoped it was from Laura. Oh my God, Kate, you’re not going to
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley