Mr. Penderwick shifted over a few more boxes, and Skye could at last see her old bed.
"Back in your childhood bedroom," Mr. Penderwick said. "I hope you're not taking it too hard, I was just reading an article about how so many adults in their twenties have to move back in with their parents. The regression can be soul-draining, allegedly."
"I'm not moving back in," Skye said. "I'm about to get my PhD for crying out loud, is that regression?"
"Depends on your perspective," Ben said from down the hall.
Skye rolled her eyes and tossed her last bag down on the floor.
"Seriously, I'm already considering going to Boston and moving in with Jane, if you guys keep it up."
Iantha appeared with fresh bedsheets in hand.
"This from the girl who complained for years about sharing a room with Jane," Iantha said. "California really has changed you."
"No way," Skye said. She shook out her legs and stretched her arms. "I'm gonna go for a run, I need to get my blood pumping."
As Skye exited the house and took off down Gardam Street, she wondered at how she had forgotten what it was like to be inside that home – all warmth and siblings and people coming in and going out, always someone to bicker with or talk to for comfort. And this with only Lydia and Ben at home. Back when she was in high school, it had been six kids in the house, plus all her soccer friends and Jane's cohort of admiring boys.
Skye smiled wryly to herself and picked up the pace. She knew she had possessed admirers too. Brainy boys who were drawn to her seriousness and athletic boys who liked to scrimmage her in soccer. They took one look at her gleaming blonde hair and long legs, and they all fell. Skye would sometimes wish she didn't have any looks at all, but then she would take that wish back. She liked looking like her mother, she always had.
She wasn't vain, but she got a thrill deep in her stomach every time a relative or old friend of her father's would say: "But my God, she looks just like Elizabeth, it's remarkable."
Skye was good at pushing the boys away at sixteen. She had better things to do. Jane could have them, and Jane had always wanted the suitors. Jane gleefully consoled Skye's leftovers, although Jane would never deign to get serious with a guy who had liked Skye first. Jane was no one's second place.
A mile into the run, Skye began to break a sweat. It was June, and the summer heat had arrived in Massachusetts at last. Skye grinned and picked up the pace once more.