Free Dream House by Catherine Armsden Page B

House was her mother’s real house, the one she would move into if Fran weren’t living there. Because her mother and Fran didn’t get along, Ginny had only been inside Lily House a handful of times.
    â€œStop!” Eleanor now commanded. “It’s Sid —in the driveway. Let’s see if he wants to go to the museum.”
    â€œOh, honey, you don’t really want—”
    â€œCertainly I do! Pull in.”
    Ginny slumped in her seat. Cassie had left for her first year of boarding school six weeks ago, and Ginny missed her almost unbearably; it didn’t seem fair to have your sister leave home when you were only nine. They were going to pick her up at school to go with them to the museum, and Ginny had been looking forward to having her to herself in the backseat. Plus, for some reason, Cassie hated Sid, and she’d be mad he was coming.
    Ron pulled into Lily House’s driveway, and Eleanor got out. Ginny couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Sid. She took in his bell-bottom corduroys and jean jacket, the dark hair that reached jaggedly for his shoulders, and the cigarette clamped in his mouth and decided he looked like a musician on the cover of a record album, lanky and loose. He appeared to be fiddling with the windshield wiper on Fran’s car.
    Sid looked up at them, plucked the cigarette from his mouth and ground it into the dirt with his boot. He didn’t move toward them when Eleanor got out of the car.
    â€œOh, boy,” Ron said.
    Sid and her mother exchanged a few words, and Sid disappeared into the house. Eleanor marched back to the car. “Fran will come up with some reason he can’t go with us, of course. Even on my birthday.”
    Ginny hoped she was right. Ron started the engine, and Eleanor said, “Turn it off. We’ll just wait. I haven’t seen him in three years, for God’s sake. She’s just jealous! She’s been jealous since the day Iwas born!”
    Lily House’s door opened. Sid stood on the porch with his knapsack for a few moments, as if still deciding.
    Eleanor said, “Oh!” and her face lit up the way it did when she’d see a Jack-in-the-Pulpit in the woods. She got out of the car and climbed into the backseat with Ginny.
    â€œWhy does he get the front?” Ginny asked.
    â€œBecause he has long legs.”
    Sid’s knapsack landed on the floor in the front seat. “Thanks for the rescue, gang,” he said when he got in. “Nice Pontiac, Ron.” The car filled with a smoky smell.
    â€œSid’s coming to the museum with us!” Eleanor announced gaily. “Then we’re going to drop him at the bus station to go back to Chapin. Ginny, say hello.”
    â€œHello,” Ginny said.
    â€œSo how’s school, dear?” Eleanor asked Sid. “Are you still painting?”
    â€œStill painting. Senior year. A lot of work. Not much sleep. On top of it, I was up half the night with Fran, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a little snooze.”
    Sid slumped against the car door. Eleanor looked out the window. Ginny stewed; her mother would never have allowed Cassie to get away with such rudeness.
    No one said a word. Halfway between home and Boston, they stopped to pick up Cassie at Andrews Academy, the all-girls boarding school that Eleanor’s “summer person” friends had recommended when Eleanor complained that her older daughter had gone boy crazy and her teachers didn’t challenge her. Andrews had given Cassie a scholarship, and her wealthy godmother had provided the balance of the tuition. To Ginny’s astonishment, Cassie had been fine with going away to school and didn’t even tear up when they dropped her off in September. Ginny had cried hard that night, in bed.
    When the station wagon pulled up in front of the dormitory, two girls wearing carpenter’s overalls walked by, and Ron chuckled, “Would you