Page 9 of Chasing Stardust

I blink, then blink again. “You’ve had it for two years and never told me?”

“I didn’t read it. Not until after . . .” Jeanie drops her gaze. “She made me promise to wait until she was gone. So I’d understand.”

Something inside me snaps. White-hot anger rises up, lashing out like a cracking whip. My whole life I’ve been stuck with Jeanie’s hand-me-downs—her clothes, her toys. Everything was hers before it was mine . . . even Mom. Even now.

“Why you?” My anger unfurls like a giant sail, catching the wind. “I’m the one who took care of her all this time. I’m the one who gave up everything and stayed behind!”

“Maybe she was afraid you couldn’t handle it then.”

“And now?” Feelings of inadequacy, of desperation, well up in me. Mom hadn’t trusted me. Hadn’t thought I could handle the truth. But Jeanie could. My hands shake as I roughly grip my thighs, holding myself still before I jump across the roof and tackle her. “Where is it now? Or am I still unworthy?”

Jeanie rolls her eyes as if my request is beneath her. As if she still sees me as that fragile little girl who cried over spilled ice cream. “It’s in my carry-on.”

“Go get it. Right now.”

She shifts her weight but doesn’t get up. “Not until you calm down.”

“Damn it, Jeanie!” I release my thighs and the blood rushes back in. “You’re such a bitch!”

Jeanie’s lips take on a cruel slant, and she chuckles under her breath. “I may be a bitch, but you’re acting like a child.”

Her words sting more than they should, and I suck in a breath.

“Whoa! What’s going on out here?” Grandma Lola leans out the open window. “Keep this up and one of you is going to fall and break your neck.”

“She started it.” The instant the words tumble past my lips, I know I’ve lost. Congratulations, Zoey. You just proved Jeanie’s point.

I half expect Grandma to hug us into submission. Instead, she plops down beside Jeanie and crisscrosses her legs. She pulls a cigarette from behind her ear like a hippie magician and lights it with a rainbow-colored Bic from her pocket. “Now what’s all the ruckus about?”

With a sigh, the fight drains out of Jeanie. “Mom gave me her diary, and—”

“And I don’t think it’s fair for her to know all Mom’s secrets while I’m left in the dark,” I say.

“I was planning to let you read it,” Jeanie mutters.

“When? After I graduate college?”

Grandma leans forward and exhales a smoke ring. “Is it the diary from our trip?”

Jeanie cocks her head. “How’d you—”

“As far as I know, it’s the only time your mother kept a diary.”

A sad smile crosses Jeanie’s lips. “It starts on the day you told her about her dad . . .”

“And ends on the last day of our trip . . . on Santa Monica Pier.” Grandma takes another drag on her cigarette and nods as if she’s reliving the memory.

Alternating my gaze between them, I heave a heavy sigh. “Will one of you tell me what the hell you’re talking about? What trip? How old was I?”

“You weren’t even born yet, Zoey,” Grandma says. “The summer before your mom started college, I told her the same story I told you girls this afternoon. She wanted to see all the places I’d gone on that tour. Wanted a way to connect with her father . . . and me, I suppose.”

Eager to hear more, I crawl across the roof until I practically land in my grandmother’s lap. “So you took off on a road trip? Just like that?”

She nods. “We spent the entire summer retracing my steps from ’72. She never told you about the time we snuck her into a pub to sing karaoke?”

“No.” I laugh at the thought of my straitlaced mom sneaking into a bar.

Grandma’s face lights up. “You should have seen her. She wore one of my ripped band tees and a pair of frayed cutoffs. And the things we did in New York City would curl your toes! It was before camera phones, but I think your mom took photos at every stop.”