Something Like Spring Read Free Page B

“You mean to Jesus?”
    Amy nodded. “Mm-hm.”
    “No. Sorry, but God stopped taking my calls a long time ago.”
    Amy scrunched up her nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “That I don’t want to pray.” Jason grabbed the last two pairs of socks from his suitcase and closed the lid. “How old are you?”
    “Seven and a half.”
    “What does a seven-and-a-half-year-old need to pray for? A Barbie Dreamhouse?”
    “I’ve got one of those,” Amy said matter-of-factly. “I pray for things to stay the same. I don’t want everything to change again.”
    Jason understood. She was young, but obviously she still remembered the life she had before. Whatever had put her into foster care, she worried it could happen again. He wouldn’t ask her what that was. Instead, he steered her toward more pleasant topics. “You really have a Barbie Dreamhouse?”
    Amy nodded eagerly, flashing him a smile that was missing a few teeth.
    Jason pretended to be impressed. “The kind with an elevator and everything?”
    “Yup! And lights that turn on and off and a hot tub. And a toilet.” She giggled. “Do you want to come play?”
    “With dolls? Uh, no.”
    Amy went from gleeful to pouty in the blink of the eye. “Nobody ever plays with me!”
    “Nobody ever?” Jason asked.
    “Nobody ever,” Amy confirmed.
    Jason glanced around his room. Unless he planned on losing himself in the innocuous adventures of the Hardy Boys, he didn’t have many options. “All right,” he said. “But I get to play with the boy dolls. You do have boy dolls, don’t you?”
    Amy’s eyes lit up. She hopped off the bed and grabbed his hand, leading him down the hallway. Jason allowed himself to peek into the rooms they passed. In one dark bedroom—the blinds pulled shut—his new ‘brother’ Peter sat in front of a computer, wearing a headset while he hammered at a keyboard. The door to the next room was only cracked, but he could see Carrie, the oldest Hubbard girl, pacing the room while lost in a phone conversation. The room across from Peter’s was obviously their destination, since it was a pink paradise, but Jason’s attention was focused down the hall. Unlike the others, the door there was closed. The dull thump of music could be heard from beyond.
    “Whose room is that?” he asked, even though Amy was tugging at his arm to get him to follow. “Is that where your parents sleep?”
    “No,” Amy said, rolling her eyes. “That’s Caesar’s room. He never comes out. Mom and Dad sleep downstairs.”
    “Oh,” he said as if disinterested, but he strained to hear what song was playing, even as they entered Amy’s room and sat on the plush carpet.
    “Here it is!” she declared.
    The plastic three-story monument was just as princess-powered as their surroundings. Jason tried to imagine living in a real home with so much eye-bleeding pink everywhere and decided it would drive anyone insane. Perhaps that was why all the dolls wore such manic grins. He listened patiently as Amy gave him a tour of the different Dreamhouse rooms and then showed off the accompanying car and horse stable. Afterwards she presented him with the dolls they would be playing with.
    “This one is me,” she said, holding up the blondest, “and this one is you.”
    Jason was handed a doll with black hair sculpted in plastic. Nothing like him in real life. He couldn’t imagine wearing the Hawaiian shirt and white shorts either. Despite all of this, he pretended to be impressed. “Looks just like me!” he declared.
    “This one is Caesar,” Amy continued. Caesar’s doll had slick-backed hair—synthetic fibers this time— and a tiny pair of sunglasses on his forehead. Jason accepted possession of the doll, feeling oddly intrigued. “And this one is Carrie. They’re a couple.”
    “Caesar and Carrie?” Jason asked.
    “Mm-hm.” As if to demonstrate, Amy thunked Carrie’s doll-head against Caesar’s in one of the most brain rattling kisses