Under the Dusty Sky (Holloway Farms)

through the huge glass sliding doors. Her house is a lot more modern than mine, but it also wasn’t built at the turn of the twentieth century. My toes squish the plush grey carpet of the hall as I run past her mom.
    “ Hi, Judy. Love what you’ve done with the place. Bye, Judy.”
    Lacy’s mom breathes in to say something, but I take the stairs two at a time past her and still manage to straighten a photograph on the wall as I’m running. Judy is what most people call clean until they know her. Then they call her obsessive. She cleans multiple times a day, and I swear every three months she’s redecorating something.
    I squeeze into Lacy’s bedroom just as she’s shutting the door and toss the towels on the bed. A pain shoots through my arm as Lacy punches me, and I face her open-mouthed.
    “ That’s for being a jerk about Asher. And yes, I guess I do hang out with your family too much.”
    “ Okay, fine. I deserve that.” I start rifling through her closet. Jeans, jeans, jeans, and a thousand hoodies.
    “ Can I borrow this?” I pull out a light yellow zip up, and she nods. She’s shorter than me, and tiny, but she likes her clothes a little baggy, which is perfect for me. I would not ever be able to fit into her pants, though. She looks now like Asher did when he was ten. Like a bean, the super skinny flat ones. I pull my shorts on over my bikini bottoms and zip up Lacy’s hoodie over my top as Lacy throws on loose board shorts and a white tank that shows her flower bikini underneath. I can’t help but think she’d probably fit in L.A. Not with Ben’s crowd but the beach crowd. Definitely with her wavy blonde hair, surfer-style, and love of water.
    “ What are you staring at?” Lacy looks behind her then back at me.
    I throw my arm around her shoulders as we walk out of her room and down the stairs.
    “ I totally get it,” I say, and she looks confused.
    “ Get what?”
    “ Why he likes you so much. I don’t like it, but I get it.” I let my arm slide off her shoulders at the bottom of the stairs. She doesn’t have time to answer because Judy’s watching us like a crazy person as we make our way to the box of pizza on the counter. She’ll be on us the second we’re done to wipe the black granite counters because it ‘shows the grease.’
    Lacy is so much more like her dad. Laidback and quiet.
    “ Gracie?” A tiny voice sounds behind me, and I turn and squat down on my heels to look Mason in the eye.
    “ What up Mas-son?” I say in a terrible gangster voice holding up my hand for a high five, and he giggles, slapping my hand. It makes me smile every time.
    “ Can I sit wis you?” His words whistle through the hole where his missing tooth should be.
    “ Totally, little man. Get your butt up here.” I lift him onto the chair and then lean against the back of it, resting my chin on his tiny shoulder. We eat in silence, and Mason draws pictures on the counter in grease. Lacy points to his tomato-covered fingers and nods toward her mom.
    I try to hold in a laugh at the thought of Judy with the bleach bottle after we leave. I snort out a laugh, and Lacy follows suit. We make eye contact, and I spit out a chunk of pizza, trying not to laugh. Mason sits up straighter, and a huge smile spreads across his five-year-old adorable face. He doesn’t know why we’re laughing, but he doesn’t need to. He giggles, which makes me laugh harder, which makes Lacy almost choke on her pizza, which makes Mason squeal with pleasure. I wrap my arms around him and nuzzle my face in his neck and laugh a fake wild laugh as he shrieks and tries to get away.
    “ Girls, no horseplay at the table, or I guess counter.” Lacy’s dad, John, enters the kitchen and leans on the island across from me. “What’s so funny anyway? I like laughing.”
    He picks up a slice and smiles the same smile Lacy has.
    “ How mom is going to freak when she sees this.” Lacy points to the greasy counter.
    “ Aw, don’t pick on your poor mother. She has a serious case of… um—”
    “ Of crazy?” Lacy laughs again, and Judy clears her throat.
    “ I heard that! What am I going to freak about?” She leans against her husband and then grabs his arm, her eyes going wide like there was a rattler or something sitting on the counter.
    “ Our cue to split,” Lacy says and backs out of the room. I follow. The Pearsons are weird, but they’re pretty much my family. Judy and Mom were close before she ditched us, and Judy