“I guess your parents are glad too.”
“Relieved, I think. We’re learning a lot about our feelings. What are you going to do in the fall?”
“I’m going to FSU to major in drama. My dad’s not nuts about the idea, ’cause he really wanted me to go to law school, but I can just picture myself plea bargaining—if things got tense, I’d squirt the judge in the face with a plastic flower and get thrown out of court.”
Erin gilded, and David studied her. “So when you do get up to the campus, I’ll already be there. Will you look me up?”
She sought his eyes through layers of greasepaint. “You can count on it,” she said. In that moment she felt as if they were the only two people in the world, and that the sunshine and the blue sky had been created just for them.
“Guess who this is,” David signed to his sister.
Erin awkwardly spelled out her own name, and Jody’s face lit up with a grin, so similar to David’s. She hugged Erin’s waist.
“I think she’s missed you,” David said with a laugh. “She’s running in a race soon and wants us to come and watch.”
“Tell her I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Are you crying?” David asked, incredulous.
“Tell Jody that dandelions are very special to me.” Erin touched the soft yellow petals, remembering seeds floating away in the breeze at Amy’s funeral. She held out her hand, carefully tucking her two middle fingers against her palm and extending her thumb, forefinger, and pinky. “I love you,” she whispered.
Again Jody smiled, and the smile washed over Erin like a soothing balm. The child turned on her friends hand, and together they darted across the field toward the track.
David said, “I don’t get it. Jody gives you a bunch of raggy weeds, and you start bawling. Girls are weird.”