CHAPTER 3 : HER WORLD

Everything about the summer changed when Adrian met Maya. Her world

opened up with sleepovers and playdates and secrets shared.

For the first time in her life, she had a real best friend.

She taught Maya yoga and dance steps—and almost a handspring—and

Maya taught her how to twirl a baton and how to play Yahtzee.

Maya had a dog named Jimbo, who could walk on his back legs, and a

cat named Miss Priss, who liked to cuddle.

She had a brother named Raylan, but all he wanted to do was play video

games or read comic books or run around with his friends, so she didn’t see

that much of him.

But he had green eyes, greener and darker than her mother’s and her

grandmother’s. Like they got a super-charge of green.

Maya said he was mostly a doody-head, but Adrian didn’t see any real

evidence of it, since he steered clear of them.

And she really liked his eyes.

Still, it made her wonder what it would have been like to have a brother

or a sister. A sister would be better, obviously, but having somebody close

to the same age in the house seemed like fun.

Maya’s mom was really nice. Nonna said she was a jewel, and Popi said

she was a fine cook and a hard worker. Sometimes when Mrs. Wells had her

shift, Maya came over and stayed all day, and if they asked in time, some of

the other girls could come, too.

After the cast came off, she had to wear a removable splint for three

more weeks. But she could take it off if she wanted a bubble bath or if she

got invited to swim in Maya’s friend Cassie’s backyard pool.

One day deep in June she went upstairs with Maya to get everything they

needed for the tea party they planned to hold outside under the big shade

tree.

She stopped by Raylan’s open bedroom door. Always before, he’d kept it

closed with a big KEEP OUT sign on it.

“We’re not supposed to go in without permission,” Maya told her. She

had her sunny blond hair in French braids today because it was her mom’s

day off and she’d had time.

Maya put a hand on her hip the way she did and rolled her eyes. “As if

I’d want to. It’s messy and it’s smelly.”

Adrian didn’t smell anything from the doorway, but messy hit the mark.

He hadn’t made the bed even a little. Clothes and shoes spread all over the

floor along with action figures.

But the walls gripped her attention. He’d covered them with drawings.

Superheroes, battles with monsters or supervillains, spaceships, strange

buildings, scary-looking forests.

“Did he draw all these?”

“Yeah, he draws all the time. He draws good, but it’s always stupid stuff.

He never draws anything pretty—except he did once for Mom for Mother’s

Day. He drew a bouquet of flowers and colored them and everything. She

cried—but because she liked it.”

Adrian didn’t think the drawings were stupid—some were kind of scary,

but not stupid. Still, she didn’t say so, since Maya was her best friend.

As she poked her head in just a little farther, Raylan ran up the stairs. He

froze in place a moment, eyes narrowed. Then he bounded over and into the

doorway to block it.

“You’re not allowed in my room.”

“We didn’t go in, poop-brain. Nobody wants to go in your stinky room.”

Maya gave an exaggerated sniff, slapped a hand on her hip.

“The door was open,” Adrian said before Raylan could retaliate against

his sister. “I didn’t go in, honest. I was just looking at the drawings. They’re

really good drawings. I especially like the one of Iron Man. This one,” she

added, and posed as if in flight, with one arm out, hand fisted.

Now those furious eyes tracked to hers. Instinctively she cringed back as

her wrist throbbed with phantom pain.

He saw her cover her braced wrist with her hand—and remembered

about her father.

Anybody would be scared if their own father broke something on them.

So he made himself shrug like he didn’t care. But maybe he was a little

impressed she even knew who Iron Man was.

“It’s okay. That was just practice. I can do better.”

“The one of Spider-Man and Doc Ock’s really cool, too.”

Okay, more than a little impressed. None of Maya’s other girl dopes

knew Doc Ock from the Green Goblin.

“Yeah, I guess.” Considering that enough conversation with a girl, he

sneered at his sister. “Keep out.”

So saying, he went in, shut the door.

Maya smiled her sunny smile. “See? Poop-brain.” Taking Adrian’s hand,

she skipped down to her room to get tea party supplies.

That night before bedtime, Adrian got some paper and a pencil to try to

draw her favorite superhero, Black Widow.

Everything she drew looked like blobs connected to lines or more blobs.

Sadly, she went back to her standard—a house, trees, flowers, and a big

round sun.

Even that wasn’t very good, none of her drawings were—even though

Nonna always put one on the refrigerator.

She wasn’t good at drawing. She wasn’t really good at cooking and

baking, even though Nonna and Popi said she learned fast.

What was she good at?

To comfort herself she did yoga—even though she had to be careful not

to put too much weight on her wrist.

When she finished the nightly ritual, she brushed her teeth, then put on

her pajamas.

She started to go out to tell her grandfather she was ready for bed—her

grandmother had the shift at Rizzo’s—when he tapped on her open door.

“Look at my girl. All clean and shiny and ready for bed. And look at

this,” he continued when he saw her drawing. “This has to go in our art

gallery.”

“It’s baby drawing.”

“Art’s in the eye of the beholder, and I like it.”

“Maya’s brother, Raylan, can really draw.”

“That he can. He’s very talented.” He glanced at her, and her sulky face.

“But I’ve never seen him walk on his hands.”

“I’m not really supposed to do that yet.”

“But you will again.” He kissed the top of her head, then nudged her

toward the bed. “Let’s get you and Barkley tucked in so we can read

another chapter of Matilda. My girl reads better than most teenagers.”

Adrian snuggled in with her stuffed dog. “Active mind, active body.”

When Dom laughed and sat on the bed beside her with the book, she

curled up against him.

He smelled of the grass he’d mowed before dinner.

“Do you think Mom misses me?”

“Sure she does. Doesn’t she call every week to talk to you, to see how

you’re doing, what you’re doing?”

I wish she’d call more, Adrian thought, but she doesn’t ask so much what

I’m doing.

“I think tomorrow I’ll teach you how to make pasta, then you can teach

me something.”

“What?”

“One of those routines you make up.” He tapped her nose. “Active mind,

active body.”

The idea delighted. “Okay! I can make up a new one for you.”

“Not too hard. I’m new at this. For now, read me a story.”

When Adrian looked back on that summer, she realized it had been idyllic.

A pause in reality, responsibility, and routine she’d never fully know again.

Long, hot, sunny days with lemonade on the porch, the cheer of dogs in

the yard. The thrill of a sudden thunderstorm where the air turned silver and

the trees swayed and danced. She had friends to play with, to laugh with.

She had healthy, energetic, attentive grandparents who made her, for that

brief moment of time, the center of their world.

She learned good kitchen skills, and some would stay with her for the

rest of her life. She discovered the fun in picking fresh herbs and vegetables

that grew right outside in the yard, and how her grandmother smiled when

her grandfather brought in a handful of wildflowers for her.

That summer she learned what family and community really meant.

She’d never forget it, and would often yearn for it.

But the days passed. A parade and fireworks on the Fourth of July. A hot

humid night of colored lights and whirling sounds when the carnival came

to town. Catching and releasing fireflies, watching hummingbirds, eating a

cherry Popsicle on the big wraparound porch on a day so still she could

hear the creek bubble.

Then everyone talked about back-to-school clothes and supplies. Her

friends buzzed about what teacher they’d have and showed off new

backpacks and binders.

And summer, despite the heat, the light, the long days, rushed to an end.

She tried, and failed, not to cry when her grandmother helped her pack.

“Oh now, my baby.” Sophia drew her into a hug. “You’re not leaving

forever. You’ll come back to visit.”

“It’s not the same.”

“But it’ll be special. You know you’ve missed your mama, and Mimi.”

“But now I’m going to miss you and Popi, and Maya and Cassie and Ms.

Wells. How come I always have to miss somebody?”

“It’s hard, I know, because Popi and I are going to miss you.”

“I wish we could live here.”

She could live in this big house, with this pretty room where she could

walk right out on the porch and see the dogs, the gardens, the mountains. “I

wouldn’t have to miss anybody if we could live here.”

After a quick rub on Adrian’s back, Sophia stepped away to lay a pair of

jeans in the suitcase. “This isn’t your mom’s home, my baby.”

“It was. She was born right here and went to school here and

everything.”

“But it’s not her home now. Everybody has to find their own home.”

“What if I want this to be mine? How come I can’t have what I want?”

Sophia looked at that sweet, mutinous face and her heart cracked a little.

She sounded so like her mother.

“When you’re old enough, you might want this to be home. Or you might

want New York, or someplace else. And you’ll decide.”

“Kids don’t get to decide anything.”

“That’s why the people who love them do their best to make good

decisions for them until they’re ready to make their own. Your mama does

her best, Adrian. I promise you, she does her best.”

“If you said I could live here, she might say yes.”

Sophia felt the crack in her heart widen. “That wouldn’t be the right

thing for you or your mama.” She sat on the side of the bed, took Adrian’s

tearful face in her hands. “You need each other. Now wait,” she said when

Adrian shook her head. “Do you believe I always tell you the truth?”

“Yes, I guess. Yes.”

“I’m telling you the truth now. You need each other. It might not feel like

it right now when you’re sad and you’re angry, but you do.”

“Don’t you and Popi need me?”

“Oh boy, do we.” She pulled Adrian in for a fierce hug. “Gioia mia.

That’s why you’re going to write us letters, and we’re going to write you

back.”

“Letters? I never wrote one.”

“Now you will. In fact, I’m going to give you some pretty stationery to

get you started. I’ve got some in my desk, and I’ll get it. We’ll pack it up for

you.”

“And you’ll write letters just to me?”

“Just to you. And once a week, for sure, you’re going to call and we’ll

talk.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky swear.” Sophia locked a finger with Adrian’s and made her smile.

She didn’t cry when the car drove up—a big, shiny black limo—but she

clung to her grandfather’s hand.

He gave hers a squeeze. “Look at that fancy car! Aren’t you going to

have fun riding in style. Go on now.” He gave her hand another squeeze.

“Go give your mom a hug.”

The driver wore a suit and tie, and got out first to open the door. Her

mother slid out. She had on pretty silver sandals, and Adrian saw that her

toes were painted bright pink to match her shirt.

Mimi got out the other side, her face all smiles even though her eyes

glistened.

Even at not quite eight, Adrian knew it was wrong to want to run to

Mimi first. So she walked across the lawn to her mother. Lina bent down

for the hug.

“I think you’re taller.” As she straightened, Lina ran a hand down

Adrian’s curly ponytail. And her eyebrows drew together the way they did

when she didn’t like something. “You definitely got a lot of sun.”

“I wore sunscreen. Popi and Nonna made sure.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“Where’s mine?” Mimi threw out her arms. This time Adrian did run.

“Oh, I missed you!” She lifted Adrian off her feet, kissed her cheeks,

hugged harder. “You got taller, and you’re all golden, and you smell like

sunshine.”

Everybody hugged, but Lina said they couldn’t stay for food and drink.

“We flew in from Chicago. It already feels like a long day, and I have an

interview on the Today show in the morning. Thank you so much for

looking after Adrian.”

“She’s nothing but a pleasure.” Sophia took both of Adrian’s hands,

kissed them. “An absolute pleasure. I’m going to miss your pretty face.”

“Nonna.” Adrian flung her arms around her.

Dom hauled her up, gave her a swing, then a cuddle. “Be good for your

mom.” He kissed the side of her neck, then set her back on her feet.

She had to hug Tom and Jerry, and cry a little with her face buried in fur.

“Come on, Adrian, it’s not like you’re never going to see them again. It’ll

be summer again before you know it.”

“You could come for Christmas,” Sophia said.

“We’ll see how it goes.” She kissed her mother’s cheek, then her father’s.

“Thank you. It took a lot of stress off knowing she was away from …

everything. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, but I have to be in the studio by

six in the morning.”

She glanced back to where Mimi already had Adrian in the limo and was

trying to distract her by showing her how the lights worked.

“This was good for her. Good for everybody.”

“Come for Christmas.” Sophia gripped her daughter’s hand. “Or

Thanksgiving.”

“I’ll try. Take care now.”

She got in, closed the door.

Ignoring her mother’s orders to put on her seat belt, Adrian knelt on the

back seat so she could look through the rear window of the big car, see her

grandparents waving goodbye as they stood in front of the big stone house

with the dogs at their feet.

“Adrian, sit down now so Mimi can buckle you in.” Even as she spoke

and the limo slid under the covered bridge, Lina’s cell phone rang. She

glanced at the display. “I need to take this.” She shifted down to the far side

of the bench seat. “This is Lina. Hello, Meredith.”

“We’ve got fizzy water and juice.” Mimi spoke brightly as she buckled

Adrian’s seat belt. “And some berries, and those veggie chips you like.

We’ll have a car picnic.”

“That’s okay.” Adrian unzipped the little cross-body bag her

grandparents had bought her and took out her Game Boy. “I’m not hungry.”

NEW YORK CITY

From that long-ago summer, Adrian developed the habit of writing letters.

She called her grandparents at least once a week, shot off the occasional

email or text, but the weekly letter became a tradition.

Taking advantage of a warm and breezy September morning, she sat

outside on the rooftop terrace of her mother’s Upper East Side triplex to

write about her first week of the school year.

She could’ve typed it out on her computer and mailed it, but that felt no

different from email to her. It was, she thought, the act of writing that made

letters personal.

She texted, and often, with Maya, and even sent an occasional

handwritten card.

She no longer had a nanny—Mimi had fallen in love with Issac, gotten

married, and had two kids of her own. Besides, Adrian would be seventeen

in six weeks.

Mimi worked for Lina still, but as an administrative assistant, helping

schedule appointments, working with Harry to line up interviews and

events.

Her mother’s career had skyrocketed with books and DVDs, fitness

events, motivational speeches, TV appearances (she’d played herself on an

episode of Law and Order: SVU).

The Yoga Baby brand shined sterling.

The flagship Ever Fit gym in Manhattan had franchises all over the

country. Its fitness wear line, its health food line, its essential oils, candles,

lotions, its branding on gym equipment had, over slightly more than a

decade, turned what had been a one-woman operation into a billion-dollar

national enterprise.

Yoga Baby financed camps for underprivileged kids and donated heavily

to women’s shelters, so Adrian couldn’t claim her mother didn’t give back.

But most days after school Adrian came home to an empty apartment.

She’d joked with Maya that she had a closer relationship with the doorman

than her mother.

Their closest contact, essentially, Adrian thought, came during the weeks

they worked together on their annual mother-daughter exercise DVD.

But that was her life, and she’d already decided what to do with the rest

of it when she could make her own choices.

She’d already made one of her first, and sat now in the warm breeze

waiting for the hammer to drop.

It didn’t take long.

She heard the glass doors behind her slide open, hit the stops with a solid

thump.

“Adrian, for Christ’s sake, what are you doing? You haven’t begun to

pack. We’re leaving in an hour.”

“You’re leaving in an hour,” Adrian corrected, and kept writing. “I don’t

have to pack because I’m not going.”

“Don’t be such a child. I’ve got a full schedule in L.A. tomorrow. Get

packed.”

Adrian set her pen down, shifted in her chair to meet her mother’s eyes.

“No. I’m not going. I’m not letting you haul me around the country for the

next two and a half weeks. I’m not going to live in hotel rooms, do school

online. I’m staying here, and I’m going to the damn private school you

pushed me into after you bought this place last spring.”

“You’ll do exactly what I tell you. You’re still a child, so—”

“You just told me not to be a child. Can’t have it both ways, Mom. I’m

sixteen—seventeen in just a few weeks. I’ve had barely three weeks in this

new school where I have no friends. I’m not going to sit alone most of the

day in a hotel room or a studio or some event center. I can sit alone here

after school.”

“You’re not old enough to stay here alone.”

“But I’m old enough to stay alone in some other city while you’re

signing your new book or DVD, while you’re doing interviews or events?”

“You’re not alone there.” Flustered, baffled, Lina dropped down to sit.

“I’m a phone call or text away.”

“And since Mimi’s not going with you because she has two kids she

doesn’t want to leave for two weeks, she’s a phone call away. But I’m

capable of taking care of myself. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been doing

that for a while now.”

“I’ve made sure you’ve had everything you could need or want. Don’t

you take that tone with me, Adrian.” Flustered and baffled turned to

shocked and angry. “You’re getting the best education anyone could want,

one that’ll get you into the college of your choice. You have a beautiful and

safe home. I’ve worked, and worked hard, to provide those things for you.”

Adrian gave Lina a long, steady look. “You’ve worked and worked hard

because you’re an ambitious woman with a genuine passion. I don’t hold

that against you. I was happy in public school. I had friends there. Now I’m

going to try to be happy and make friends where you planted me. I can’t do

that if I’m out for two weeks.”

“If you think I’m leaving a teenager alone in New York so she can have

parties and screw off from school and go out at all hours, you’re very

mistaken.”

Adrian folded her arms on the table, leaned forward. “Parties? With

who? I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I don’t do drugs. I came close to having

a boyfriend last year, but I have to start from scratch there now. Screw off

from school? I’ve been on the honor roll since I was ten. And if I wanted to

go out at all hours, I could do that when you’re here. You’d never know the

difference.

“Look at me.” Adrian tossed up her hands. “I’m so responsible I annoy

myself. I’ve had to be. You preach about balance, well, I’m going to take

some for myself. I’m not getting pulled away from my routine again. I’m

not.”

“If you’re determined not to go, I’ll see if your grandparents can have

you for a couple weeks.”

“I’d love to visit them, but I’m staying here. I’m going to school here. If

you don’t trust me, have Mimi check on me every day. Bribe one of the

doormen to report my comings and goings, I don’t care. I’m going to get up

in the mornings and go to school. I’m going to come home in the afternoons

and do my assignments. I’m going to work out right in there, in that very

nice home gym you set up. I’ll fix myself something to eat or order in. I’m

not after parties and sex and drinking till I drop. I’m after a normal start to

the school year. That’s it.”

Lina pushed up, paced over to the wall, and stared at the view of the East

River. “You talk like … I’ve done my best for you, Adrian.”

“I know.”

Her grandmother’s words on that long-ago summer came back to her.

Your mama does her best, Adrian.

“I know,” she repeated. “And you ought to trust me not to do something

to embarrass you. If not, then you ought to know I’d never want to upset or

disappoint Popi and Nonna. I just want to go to goddamn school.”

Lina closed her eyes. She could force it—she was in charge. But at what

cost? And for what benefit?

“I don’t want you going out past nine, or leaving the neighborhood—

unless it’s to go to Mimi’s in Brooklyn.”

“If I wanted to go to the movies on a Friday or Saturday night, it might

be ten.”

“Accepted, but you’ll check in with me or Mimi in that case. I don’t want

you letting anyone into the apartment while I’m gone—excepting Mimi and

her family. Or Harry. He’s going with me, but he may fly back for a day.”

“I’m not looking for company. I’m looking for stability.”

“One of us—me, Harry, or Mimi—will phone every night. I won’t say

when.”

“Spot-checking me?”

“There’s a difference between trusting you to be responsible and taking

chances.”

“Accepted.”

The breeze stirred through Lina’s hair, the roasted chestnut sweep of it. “I

… I thought you enjoyed the travel.”

“Some of it. Sometimes.”

“If you change your mind, I’ll arrange for you to go to Mimi’s or your

grandparents’, or to fly out to meet me wherever I am.”

Because she knew her mother would do any of those things, and without

too much I-told-you-soing, Adrian felt something soften inside her.

“Thanks, but I’m going to be fine. School’s going to keep me busy, and I’m

researching colleges. And I’ve got a project I want to start.”

“What project?”

“I have to think about it some more.” At sixteen, Adrian knew how to

evade, and breezily. She also knew how to distract.

“Plus, I need to go buy a five-pound bag of M&M’s, a couple gallons of

Coke, five or six bags of potato chips. You know, basic supplies.”

Lina smiled a little. “If I thought you meant that, I might knock you out

and drag you with me. I have to go. The car’s going to be here soon. I’m

trusting you, Adrian.”

“You can.”

Lina bent down, kissed the top of Adrian’s head. “It’ll be late here by the

time I land in L.A., so I won’t call. I’ll text.”

“Okay. Have a safe trip, and a good tour.”

With a nod, Lina started back inside. Something twinged inside her chest

when she looked back and saw Adrian had picked up the pen again.

She continued to write as if it were any other afternoon.

As she started down the stairs to the next level, Lina took out her phone

and called Mimi.

“Hey, are you on your way?”

“In a minute. Listen, Adrian’s staying here.”

“She’s what?”

“She made a good case for it. I know it’s not what you’d do, but you

probably would have thought through booking a national tour on the third

week of the new school year. When she’s in a new school on top of it. I

didn’t. Hold a minute.”

She used her house phone to call downstairs. “Hi, Ben, it’s Lina Rizzo. If

you could send someone up for my bags, please. Thanks.

“Mimi, I have to trust her. She’s never given me a reason not to. And,

Jesus, she’s tougher than I realized, so good for her, I guess. Would you just

give her a call later, see how she sounds?”

“Of course. If she wants to stay here while you’re gone, we can make

that work.”

“Her mind’s set—if it changes, I guess she’ll let you know—but she’s

determined and that’s that.”

“Her mother’s daughter?”

“Is she?” Lina stopped at a mirror, checked her hair, her face. In looks,

yes, she thought. She saw a lot of herself in her daughter. But the rest …

maybe she hadn’t paid enough attention.

“Anyway, she’ll be fine. Just call or text her now and then.”

“No problem at all. I’ll stay in touch with her, and with you. Sorry,

Lina,” Mimi added as the shouts blasted through the phone. “Jacob’s

apparently decided to murder his sister again. I have to go, but you have a

safe trip. And don’t worry.”

“Thanks. Talk soon.”

When the buzzer rang, she walked to the door.

And put everything else aside. She had some prep to do on the plane, and

a full schedule ahead of her.