Free Julian's Glorious Summer by Ann Cameron Page B

working all morning,” I added. “I have to work again pretty soon.”
    Gloria looked at my house. Her eyes got big—as if she was looking at a prison.
    â€œWell, anytime you don’t have to work, you know you are always welcome to visit me,” she said.
    â€œThank you,” I said. I tried to sound braver than ever, like a spaceboy who had to be left behind on an asteroid.
    Gloria sighed. She put her hand on my shoulder.
    â€œSee you later,” she said. “Try to be happy.”

My Father Talks to Heaven
    After Gloria left I decided to actually do some work.
    I went upstairs to check on my rock collection. Before breakfast I found out Huey had been stealing my sharp rocks and storing them under my mattress. I decided to see that they were in the right place—under Huey’s mattress. They were—and their points were still as sharp as the peaks of the Rocky Mountains.
    I made my bed. Then I made Huey’s bed and fluffed up the pillows. If my mother thanked me for making Huey’s bed, I would say, “Oh, I’m sure he’d do the same for me!”
    With that work done, I went and sat on the porch. I thought it was still a very good summer—even though it would be a much better summer if Gloria had never gotten a bicycle. And I was glad that Gloria felt sorry for me. If I went over to her house, she would probably even stop riding her bicycle to play with me. If she wanted me to learn to ride, I could always say I had a job to do at home and leave. I was glad I was smart and had gotten myself out of trouble with Gloria in a quick, simple way.
    I smiled and stretched my legs out and looked up through the leaves of the trees in the front yard.
    I was pretending I was a fish swimming in the sky when I heard my dad’s truck turn into the driveway.
    I stood up and shook off my fish scales.
    Huey and Dad got out of the truck.
    â€œHi, Julian,” Huey said. He sounded very sweet—as if he was not the person who had moved my collection of sharp rocks from my shelf and put them under my mattress. But I knew he was.
    â€œHi, Huey!” I said. I gave him a fish-fanged smile.

    â€œHEL-lo, Julian!” my dad said in a super-friendly voice.
    Usually that voice means trouble. I checked my dad’s eyes. Sure enough, little red and blue flames were leaping in them, like in a furnace that would melt steel.
    But I stayed cool. “Hi, Dad,” I said. Whatever he had that look in his eyes for, it couldn’t be because of me.
    â€œGuess who we just met in the road, Julian!” Huey said. “Gloria! Does she ever have a great bicycle!”
    My life was getting worse all the time. Now Huey liked bicycles.
    â€œIt’s okay,” I said. “If you like bicycles.”
    â€œWe saw it up close,” my father said. “Very close.”
    He gave me an extra-big steel-bending smile.
    â€œGloria waved to us—I thought her bike was going to fall over—and then I stopped the truck on the side of the road. It looked like Gloria was going to ride her bike straight in my window. But she didn’t.”
    â€œShe didn’t,” I repeated.
    â€œShe didn’t. But I thought to myself, ‘Gloriamust be in a mighty big hurry to tell me something.’ And I was right.”
    â€œYou were right,” I repeated.
    I felt the way I feel during a horror movie when I don’t like how the story is going and I want to leave.
    Only this wasn’t a movie.
    I couldn’t leave.
    â€œAnd you know what GLORIA told me?” my father said, spreading his hands wide in the air as he said her name—as if it was a pretty rug he was shaking over the whole sky.
    â€œWhat Gloria told you?” I said.
    â€œYes. What Gloooooooria tooooooold me,” my father repeated. He threw his hands high in the air again and raised his eyes to the sky, as if he wanted to make sure heaven was listening.
    â€œI don’t