Jules as if to say, “I don’t believe you.” But Patsy knew better than to ask too many questions.
“Patsy, Patsy, wait up.” Rosey walked over with a worried look on her face, pulling Marcus behind her. “Look, it’s too hard taking care of Marcus in the store. He’s wandering all over the place. Besides, we gotta get home.”
“Okay. See you at school tomorrow, Jules?” Patsy asked.
“Sure,” Jules said, not looking at her.
Patsy and Rosey took Marcus by the hand and walked down the aisle.
Jules watched.
Patsy has problems. But at least she’s not alone. I’m as alone as ever a person could be
.
Jules tried to concentrate, to keep her eyes on the words in the book, but she couldn’t. Tears dropped onto the page.
Not here. Not in front of people. What a baby I am. What a stupid –
“What’s wrong, honey?” Mrs. Adamson was suddenly there, crouched down in front of her.
Few people ever spoke to Jules in a warm soft voice. It caught her off guard and made her cry harder.
“Come to the back, where it’s quiet.” Mrs. Adamson stood up and put out her hand.
Jules couldn’t look her in the face, but she took Mrs. Adamson’s hand as she got to her feet. They walked to the back of the store, through a set of swinging doors, and paused in front of one marked STAFF .
“Wait here a minute.” Mrs. Adamson went inside.
Minutes later, a few employees came out. Some stared at Jules. Others continued on with their conversations.
Mrs. Adamson held the door open. “C’mon in. I’ve put the kettle on. Let’s have some hot chocolate.”
I shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to talk to anyone
.
Mrs. Adamson shut the door behind them and got a chair for Jules. She pulled down two mugs from a kitchenette cupboard and filled them with instant hot chocolate. They waited in silence for the kettle to boil.
When the hot chocolate was ready, Mrs. Adamson handed a mug to Jules. “Here. You’ll like this.”
I don’t like anything
.
Jules couldn’t look at Mrs. Adamson, but she took the mug and held it in her lap. Its warmth felt good.
“Why weren’t you at school today?”
None of your business
.
Jules kept her mouth shut, her head bowed.
How can I ever tell?
Mrs. Adamson brought a chair close to Jules and sat down. “I know something’s wrong, Jules. I … just want to help. I …” She paused. “Life can be so hard, and if you’re young and if you’re alone, things seem harder. I sure know all about that.”
How can you possibly? Nobody can
.
Mrs. Adamson sat quietly beside her for a long time. Jules was glad she didn’t try filling up time with empty words.
“Jules, something’s not right. It might help to talk about it.”
Alone, alone, alone
.
“Jules?” Mrs. Adamson asked softly.
If I say nothing, you’ll give up
.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
Won’t you ever stop asking?
“Nothing!” Jules said too loudly. “Nothing,” she repeated, strangling a sob.
“I’ve never seen you so sad.”
Jules was shocked.
It’s a secret, my sadness
.
It was frightening, terrifying, to think Mrs. Adamson could see it. Nobody ever noticed anything, except maybe Patsy. No grown-up ever talked to Jules like they wanted to find out what was on her mind or what was bothering her. Most people thought she was a moody kid. She’d heard her father say that enough times to his friend Hank, and Hank sure seemed to agree.
She looked into Mrs. Adamson’s face.
Adults only see what they want to see in a kid. Why should I be honest? I know how to fool people. Why let a stranger into the rotten part of my life? Besides, if I say anything, if my words go out into the air, it’ll make everything real
.
Mrs. Adamson put an arm around her.
How can a stranger be like this to me? To Jules, the stinking weirdo?
If Mrs. Adamson had been mean, Jules could have kept silent, but kindness made Jules’s feelings crash together and burst out.
“My dad. He’s left me. Doesn’t want
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