The Summer I Saved the World ... in 65 Days by Michele Weber Hurwitz

Grandma is in the room. The basket is filled with stuff no one else I know has—shiny silver thimbles, lace wound around a cardboard wheel, a rainbow of thread colors, different-size needles stuck in the pincushion on the inside lid. And the buttons. A whole removable top tray of them. They’re fascinating to me; simple but so essential. Small and round. Fabric, metal, plastic. Two holes, four holes, and some with a little hook under the button, which is the hardest to sew.
    Mom never uses the basket. If she needs pants hemmed or a button sewed on, she drops the clothes off at the cleaners. Grandma told me she tried to teach Mom to sew when she was little, but Mom didn’t have the patience for it.
    I look over at Thomas, still sound asleep. There’s a wet spot on the sofa where he drooled.
    I get a needle ready with black thread and spread the cape across my lap. I knot the end of the thread and pull the needle through the fabric, hiding the knot on the inside. Then, small, even stitches, like Grandma showed me. In, out, again. I work my way up the rip, and it slowly mends with every stitch. I have to stop for a second as I remember Grandma sitting in her armchair, sewing, a carrot ring in the oven. Nutmeg.Brown sugar. Cinnamon. The smells filling her apartment. ST: Carrots are good for the eyes. And the heart.
    We went there a lot for Sunday dinners. For me, it was like being wrapped in a soft, warm blanket. Dad and Matt were always thrilled. Grandma was a good cook. But Mom always had her lips pressed together the whole time. While we drove home, she’d comment on things Grandma had said, or hadn’t said, or should have said, and I didn’t get any of it.
    When I’m done sewing, I tie a small double knot in the thread and hold up the cape. It looks like it has a scar. I hope Thomas will be okay with it.
    He breathes through his mouth as he sleeps. His cheeks are pink, and his eyelashes are a little clumped together from the crying. I rub his back softly. His skin feels warm through the pillowcase. He makes a sound, a hum-sigh. For the first time in my life, I feel a little motherly.
    Number twenty-nine.
    This was a huge day.
    I close the sewing basket. When Grandma got weak, she stopped being able to do normal things by herself. Like write. Hold a spoon. The worst was when she couldn’t sew anymore.
    I don’t know I’m crying until a tear drops onto the pillowcase.

E li comes to pick up Thomas but doesn’t say where he was. He seems angry and brushes past me. Maybe I shouldn’t ask questions, but I can’t help it.
    â€œAre you okay?”
    He flashes me a look, then goes over to the sofa and gently shakes Thomas’s shoulder.
    I follow him. “I mean, your mom was worried.”
    He turns around. He looks sweaty, and his elbow has a raw scrape on it, like it just stopped bleeding a few minutes ago. “I’m
fine
.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œYeah.” He grabs the cape and scoops up Thomas, who is groggy. “
Yeah
. I am. Okay?”
    â€œSure.” I glance at his elbow, and I’m sure he sees.
    Eli walks to the door, Thomas in his arms. Eli looks like a dad at that moment, Thomas’s head on his shoulder, a little hand clutching Eli’s white T-shirt, legs dangling by Eli’s waist. I realize how much I like this about Eli. How good he is with Thomas. How protective. The big brother everyone needs.
    â€œYou don’t have to worry about me,” Eli says sharply. “
Okay?
”
    I untie the pillowcase and slide it off Thomas’s neck. “Okay.”
    â€œThanks for watching him.”
    â€œNo problem.”
    I watch Eli walk toward his house, carrying Thomas and the cape, like he’s trying to hold it all together. He definitely needs someone to worry about him.
    My house feels lonely without Thomas sleeping on the sofa. I get one of my summer reading books,
The Alchemist
, read the first five pages, and