Hugo & Rose by Bridget Foley Page A

all.
    And then he said they shouldn’t tell Mom because it would spoil her present.
    So he didn’t. Even though he wanted to.
    Still, though …
    â€œCan I come sit up with you?”
    Mom was quiet for a second. Maybe there was a chance.
    â€œSorry, Addy. Not tall enough yet. It’s not safe.”
    Adam shrank a little bit. Isaac hadn’t been tall enough. Isaac still wasn’t tall enough. But he had got to.
    The car seemed to be quieter now, after there had been talking, than it had been before he had spoken. And something about Mom had changed since she found out he was awake. Like knowing had shut a door somewhere inside her.
    â€œMom?”
    â€œAdam?” Mom used her “serious” voice. The kind she used when she was teasing them in a good way.
    â€œCan you tell me what you dreamed about Hugo last night?”
    â€œWhy do you always ask me to tell you about Hugo?”
    Adam liked to hear about Hugo. He liked to think about what had happened on the island. He had lots of reasons why he always asked about it … but he decided to tell her the best reason. He knew the right word for it, too. A compliment . He was going to give Mommy a compliment.
    â€œBecause you look pretty when you talk about him.”
    Mom didn’t say anything after that at all. She just got all the way quiet, like someone had locked the closed door inside her.
    *   *   *
    Rose had to search for parking among the vans and wagons—the practical family movers with their decals of stick-figure relations, stickers for karate, and a dozen varieties of awareness ribbons.
    The boys strained to look out the windows, searching for familiar faces. Teammates. School friends. At the registration tents, Rose spotted the mom-with-the-implants. What was her name? She wondered if she was divorced yet. Rose felt bad for her.
    *   *   *
    Later, after she had found a parking space, the boys whined, chattering as she smeared their skin with sunscreen next to the parked car.
    â€œYou got it in my eyes.”
    â€œWell then, Isaac, you’re a big kid, you can put it on yourself next time.”
    Rose hated putting SPF on the kids as much as they hated having it put on. It brought out the worst in all of them, making the kids wiggly and impatient while turning Rose grouchy and snappish.
    Adam was shivering. “It’s cold.”
    â€œI warmed it up in my hands.”
    â€œYou didn’t even say sorry!”
    Rose looked at Isaac. “What?”
    â€œYou got it in my eyes! You didn’t even say sorry.”
    Isaac was scowling at her, his mouth hard. Next to him, Adam clutched his arms, gooseflesh rising in the wind.
    â€œSay you’re sorry, Mom!”
    Rose broke. Pissed at Isaac, hating that look on his face. She was angry. Angry that she had to be responsible for such a thankless task. Angry that he had the audacity to be angry with her. Angry that she even had to be on this shitty field, in this shitty wind, in this shitty town.
    â€œI’m sorry, Zackie! Okay? I’m sorry!”
    â€œHi there!”
    Rose turned to the bright voice behind her.
    It was what’s-her-name. Mom-with-the-implants.
    â€œRose, right?”
    Rose stood, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Sorry. We were having a moment.”
    The other woman smiled. She put a sympathetic hand next to her cleavage. “No, no, I get it! Totally get it. I just … Isaac is on Simon’s team and I thought … maybe you could use a hand.”
    She gestured over to the curb, where a good-looking blond boy was bouncing a ball on his knee. This must be Simon. Rose noticed the way he was aware of people watching him execute the trick. Exhibitionism ran in the family.
    Her name flooded back to Rose. Kaitlin, her name was Kaitlin.
    â€œThank you. That would be great. That would be amazing.… Zackie?”
    Isaac scowled at her. But he shouldered his bag,