When Mom and I talk or Skype now, it’s all about plans—what we’ll do when she’s here. For a whole month! We’re going to drive to Jones Beach. And she’s going to take Annie and me to a place with indoor trampolines, and we can stay as long as we want, jumping for hours, because Mom always wanted to have a trampoline for me but our backyard wasn’t big enough. “So how’s that class going? You haven’t talked about it at all, but I’ve been wondering. Did you end up liking that girl you told me about?” That girl. The other Naomi. “I guess. It’s just . . .” And I can’t even think of what it just is, but I know it has something to do with the work I haven’t done on our DuoTek project. “I don’t really like the class,” I say. “Or I guess it’s okay, but I wish we didn’t have to do a project.” And that’s not even the whole truth. I feel guilty, very guilty, that I haven’t done any work.Tomorrow’s the last class before the whole big presentation thing we’re having on the last day, and so far, we’ve made no progress.
