Heartache and Other Natural Shocks by Glenda Leznoff Page B

back and joking around. Dad gives me money for hot chocolate and doughnuts (Mom never lets us buy junk food), and Dad and I sit in the stands and cheer with the other Hornet families.
    Bobby plays left wing and Buzz plays defense. Eight minutes into the game, Bobby fakes out the defenseman and flicks the puck into the upper right corner of the net with a neat wrist shot. He pumps his arm in the air and grins at Dad in the stands because Dad has a deal with Bobby that if he scores a goal, or catches a pop fly in baseball season, he gets an ice cream. The Hornets win 4–3, and Dad springs for Orange Crush and Coke for the team.
    After the game, the three of us get a booth at the Pickle Barrel for lunch. Bobby sits beside Dad, and his eyes are glued to Dad’s face. It’s like he’s trying to make up for weeks of missing him. “When are you moving here?” Bobby asks.
    “Well, hotshot, the house hasn’t sold yet. Too many houses on the market,” Dad explains.
    Bobby slumps against Dad’s arm. “How long’s it gonna take?” he asks. Dad ruffles Bobby’s hair.
    “Maybe we’ll have to move back to Montreal,” I say. Dad shakes his head, but I don’t back down. “Mom’s the only one who wants to live here,” I say.
    “Jules, don’t be so hard on your mom,” he says. “I know it isn’t easy for you, but it’s not easy for her either.”
    “Yeah, well, she chose it. I didn’t.”
    Dad sighs. “I hear you, kiddo. Let’s just wait and see how things pan out, okay?”
    At least he doesn’t shut me down.
    Saturday evening, Mr. and Mrs. Cabrielli and Buzz arrive for dinner, and they’re hardly through the front door before the two dads are talking hockey and complimenting each other on their talented boys.
    “That Buzz sure is a smart player,” my dad says. “Clean checks. Not afraid to dig into the corners.”
    “And look at Bobby, our best winger,” Mr. Cabrielli says. “That kid gives 110 percent every second he’s on the ice.”
    Buzz and Bobby go to the basement to watch hockey. Mom serves her coq au vin, and Dad entertains his guests with jokes and stories. I stay in my bedroom and write to Mollie about Ian. This week in drama, we did trust exercises, and I had to fall backward into his arms. When I looked up, his eyes were mauve-blue, the color of snow shadows. A girl could get lost in those eyes and never want to come back.
    Around eight o’clock, I sneak downstairs to grab a bite. I sit at the kitchen table, and from the dining room I hear Mrs. Cabrielli say, “I told Carla to invite her over.”
    “Julia’s just going through a rough stage,” Mom says.
    “Maybe she needs a boyfriend,” Mrs. Cabrielli says.
    Mr. Cabrielli interrupts. “Carla has a boyfriend and I don’t like him.”
    I stop eating. Does he mean Ian?
    “Tony never likes her boyfriends,” Mrs. Cabrielli says.
    “This one has no manners,” Mr. Cabrielli says. “Hair in his eyes. Drives a motorcycle, like a thug. What kind of boy is that, eh?”
    “The same kind you were,” says Mrs. Cabrielli.
    “What do you mean?” Mr. Cabrielli protests. “When I was his age, I took the bus. I had respect for your parents. And I always got you home on time.”
    “And you never laid a hand on me,” Mrs. Cabrielli teases.
    “
Carissima
, you were a knockout!”
    “Tony!”
    “And she still is!”
    They all laugh.
    Mom walks into the kitchen carrying a stack of dirty plates and doesn’t notice me at the table. She puts the dishes into the sink and holds her hands under the steaming water, eyes closed, just standing there letting the water flow between her fingers. She looks tired. When she turns and sees me, she practically jumps out of her skin.
    Mrs. Cabrielli bustles into the kitchen carrying platters of leftovers. “Jules, there you are,” she says. “Why don’t you go over to the house? Carla and Ian are watching a movie on TV .”
    My heart jolts. Ian is there?
    Dad and Mr. Cabrielli walk into the kitchen. Dad