“She’s having a seizure,” Julie said. “Leave her alone a second, okay? Take your hand off her.”
The vendor looked confused, but let go of Sophie, allowing Julie to put her body between the two of them. Forty slow seconds passed, according to Val’s watch, though it felt like an hour, as always, before Sophie returned to herself and let Julie guide her to a bench.
Val knelt to gather the necklaces. One had broken, and she collected individual beads as she found them, dodging feet and stroller wheels. All they needed was for someone to slip on a bead and sue them. That would be the fitting end to this day.
“We’ll pay for anything broken,” she said, holding up the pieces. The woman nodded.
A security guard walked over. “Is there a problem?”
The vendor looked at Val, who had pulled out her wallet, and shook her head. “No problem. Sorry. False alarm.”
Val winced at the price named for the overpriced beads, which the vendor presented in a gift bag. She carried it over to the bench where Julie and Sophie sat.
“New necklace for you.” Val held out the bag.
Sophie opened it and frowned. “That’s just loose beads.”
“It can be a necklace again. We’ll string it back together.”
“That was the one I liked, actually.” Sophie sighed. “I guess I fished my wish.”
Julie rubbed Sophie’s shoulders. “Next time, just ask, okay?”
Sophie stuck out her tongue.
“Do you still want to look for shoes and a jacket?” Val asked.
Sophie considered, then shook her head. “I think this day needs to be over. Another time?”
“We have to come back here again?”
“Maybe you don’t have to come next time, Val. No reason this has to be a family field trip.”
“We can decide later.” As always, Val felt torn between wanting to do what the family was doing, and not wanting to be in the mall even a little bit.
• • •
That night, after Sophie was in bed, Val settled onto the couch to read. Julie appeared a minute later with her tablet and a cup of coffee. Her ability to drink caffeine at all hours was a constant source of amazement for Val.
“Nice relaxing family evening, huh?” Julie asked.
“Nothing like it,” Val responded with a wry smile.
“There is nothing I hate more than that moment of wondering where she is.”
“You spotted her before I did, though. I feel like I’m always a second behind you.”
Julie lowered her cup and turned so her whole body faced Val. “Speaking of . . . I had something I’ve been wanting to ask you, but I wasn’t sure how to do it.”
“What’s that?”
“What would you say if I said I wanted to get a Pilot?”
Val saw concern in her wife’s eyes. Concern and . . . anticipation? Dread? Julie had no idea how long Val had been expecting this moment. “I would say do it if you need to do it. You know I don’t like the things, and I can’t understand why anyone would want one, but . . . I guess I can understand, kind of.”
“I could watch Sophie better.”
“That’s today’s reason. There are other reasons, too, right?”
Julie sighed. “Yeah. I’d like to be able to get more done. I see how effective Piloted people are and I want to be like that. The new kids at work can do twice what I can. I’m afraid of being left behind.”
“You won’t get left behind. You love your work, and Griffith loves you.”
“Yeah, but he won’t keep me if I’m not performing, and we can’t live on one salary.”
“Would you want one if you weren’t worried about work?”
“Yeah, I would. I’ve wanted one since before we got David his. I’ve tried to be practical, but now I think I am being practical.”
“Yeah. I understand,” said Val, though she didn’t, not really.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SOPHIE
Sophie couldn’t get away with anything. She used to be able to sneak into David’s room when he had the door open. He’d be playing games and she’d curl up in his corner chair and wait for him to notice her. When he saw she was there he would be genuinely surprised, or at least he’d pretend to be. Sometimes he’d smile and let her play for a few minutes, or he’d pretend to be mad and toss her under his arm and drag her out, which was fun, too. She knew it was pretend because if he really didn’t want her in there, he’d have closed the door. She respected closed doors, mostly.
Take today, for example. She’d been perfectly sneaky. She had dropped to her belly in the hallway outside his room, where he and Milo were playing some zombie-killing game. She made sure the moms weren’t watching so they didn’t assume she was having a seizure just because she was hanging out at floor level. That was the worst drag, beyond not being allowed to climb trees anymore: having people assume anything you did that was the least bit out of the ordinary must be a seizure. If she couldn’t climb, you’d think they wouldn’t have a problem with her crawling. That way she’d be on the ground already if the Big One hit. The Big One was a monster living in her head. It liked to sneak up on her the way she liked to sneak up on David.
She rounded the corner in silence, a snake in the grass, but she’d barely slithered an inch into his room when he said, “Out, Soph.”
“Busted,” said Milo.
Neither David nor Milo bothered to turn in her direction or pause their game. The lights glowed steady blue above their right ears. She didn’t hate Pilots like her ma did, but it did make it impossible to surprise David. The snake slithered forward into the room.
“I mean it, Softserve. We don’t need any distractions.”
She sat, a cobra. “But I’m not a distraction. You aren’t even pausing to talk to me.”
“Just because I can play without pausing doesn’t mean you’re not a di—on your
