Page 143 of Instant Karma

By the time I get downstairs, Jude has set out an array of deli meats and condiments. He even took the time to slice a tomatoandan avocado, because he is an awesome human being.

“Thanks,” I say, squirting mustard onto a slice of bread. “I barely ate anything yesterday.”

Ellie runs in from the living room. “Pru’s awake!” she says, grabbing me and pressing her face into my hip. “You were gone all night! And there was so much rain!”

“I know,” I say, rubbing the top of her head. “Was that the biggest storm you ever saw, or what?”

She looks up at me with huge eyes. “I thought you were going to drown!”

“Nope. I didn’t drown. Besides, I know how to swim.”

“Not very good.”

“Hey! How do you know that?” I unwind her arms from my waist. “Are you hungry?”

“No.” She bounces on her toes. “Will you play with me?”

I cringe. “Not right now, okay? I need to eat something.”

She pouts in disappointment.

“Let’s play checkers after lunch,” says Jude. “Go get the game set up.”

She nods excitedly and dashes off.

Jude finishes making up his own sandwich and sits down at the table. “How was it spending the night at the center? Are there even beds there?”

“No, we just spread out a bunch of blankets on the floor.”

“We?”

I glance up at him. Did he think I was there alone all night? Did my parents?

“Uh. Quint was there, too.”

One eyebrow shoots up, amused. “Anyone else?”

I gulp and focus on alternating slices of turkey and ham, making sure they overlap in perfect increments. In other words—doing my best to avoid Jude’s gaze. “Sure. The animals were all there, too. Some of them were pretty freaked out by the storm. We even lost power.”

“Wow. Sounds traumatic.”

Traumaticisn’t the word I would use to describe it. Should I tell Jude what happened? I mean, normally I tell him everything, but… there’s never really beenboystuff to talk about before, and suddenly I feel weird about it. He might be one of my best friends, but he’s still my brother. Plus, he knows Quint. He witnessed our mutual dislike of each other firsthand. How am I supposed to explain how quickly and completely things have changed?

“It was an adventure,” I say.

I’m saved from giving further details when Mom comes into the kitchen with a cardboard box tucked against her hip. “You kids don’t have any interest in golf, do you?”

We both look at her.

“Golf?” I say, not sure I heard correctly.

Jude, equally dumbfounded, adds, “As in, the sport?”

“I’ll take that as a no. We have those old golf clubs that were your grandfather’s, but… I think I’m going to get rid of them. Your dad and I are trying to clean house a little bit, so if you guys have anything else you’re not using anymore…” She pats the side of the box, smiles at us, then walks back out.

I gulp, remembering the receipt for our belongings at the pawnshop. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Jude, abandoning my half-finished sandwich on the counter.

The envelope of money is still tucked into my backpack, which I’d haphazardly thrown onto the entryway bench when I came. Seeing it reminds me of my visit to the pawnshop and everything that preceded it. The lost earring, the beachcomber, the missing money from the donation jar.

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