The Secrets of Peaches by Jodi Lynn Anderson Page B

“Just give me the phone and I’ll call her.”
    Birdie continued to pick at the floor. “Maybe she’s not ready to tell me.”
    â€œBut you already know,” Leeda told her. All day, Birdie had been wilted like a dying flower. She’d come to help Leeda get ready for the homecoming Halloween football game since Murphy was supposedly finishing her NYU application.
    â€œWell, even if Poopie goes, you can still keep in touch. You can still call her.” Leeda tried to sound even, unconcerned. Only because she hoped the evenness might rub off on Birdie. The truth was, she wasn’t sure Birdie could survive without Poopie. Leeda couldn’t imagine Birdie in that big farmhouse with just her dad.
    â€œAnd then you guys will leave too.” Birdie patted her hands on the carpet, frustrated. “And then I’m only gonna have peaches to talk to.”
    â€œYou won’t only have peaches to talk to,” Leeda said evenly. A prick in her eyebrow pulled her attention back to her mom, who was holding a pair of tweezers and wrapped up in concentration. Leeda sighed, content. She couldn’t help basking in the intimacy of having her makeup done. Leeda toyed with the idea of asking her mom how she was feeling but decided against it. She looked okay. These days, it always made Leeda feel a little better just to see her.
    â€œThere,” Lucretia said, turning her toward the mirror. Leeda studied herself. She hadn’t changed into her gown yet, and the makeup looked funny with her jeans and sweater. But her mom was beaming. So she guessed she looked good. She guessed if her mom looked that happy, the whole thing was worth it.
    â€œHave you practiced your wave?” Birdie asked, pullingherself up on the bed and brightening a little or at least making an effort. Leeda waved at her, mock graceful.
    Birdie laughed valiantly. She climbed off the bed and gave her a big hug. “Ah, Lee. I love you. I gotta pee.”
    She left Leeda standing with her mom, and Leeda felt sort of awkward about the love. She wondered how long it had been since her mom had told her she loved her or vice versa. Some people made it look so easy.
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    Halloween night was unseasonably cold. There was a harvest moon, huge and orange, rising behind the football field. The green grass rose stiffly under Leeda’s high-heeled shoes, which dug into the mud. The whole ceremony was slightly pagan: Leeda stood in the middle and her royal court—her friend Dina Marie and another girl—flanked her sides in varicolored dresses, like demigoddesses. Leeda fiddled with her swan pendant, watching the bleachers warily, worried about Murphy and her mom being alone together. Murphy had saved Leeda and her mom seats on the bleachers. She found them side by side in the fourth row up, looking like they were ignoring each other. Leeda breathed a sigh of relief, but then she saw an odd sight—Murphy handing her mom a thermos. It was probably poisoned.
    The ceremony went on and on. Leeda smiled and waved and received some flowers. The Pecan Queen always doubled as the Homecoming Queen.
    Finally, after half an hour of standing in the cold, Leeda was released and made her way into the bleachers, where different people touched and congratulated her. She moved betweenMurphy and her mom, shivering. Murphy handed her a warm blue thermos and snuggled up to her.
    Leeda took a sip from the thermos. It was hot apple cider. Her mom was drinking out of a red one. She hadn’t keeled over yet.
    The Bridgewater High School football team was dismal, but Lucretia insisted it would be bad manners to show up for the game and then leave. She knew everyone in the stands and waved and winked and smiled to people like an actress at the Oscars. She had bustled around the bandstand beforehand, making sure the band was going to play the right music. She’d replaced the tiara they were using with Grandmom Eugenie’s. She’d