Seventeen-year-old Hazel never saw having a sick mom in her future. And the last thing she expected was for her new next-door neighbor to give her a checklist that would change everything.
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After Hazel Winter's mom got sick, all emotion vanishe...
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Joy's house is exactly how I pictured it in my mind. I'm standing outside the tall, iron gate gazing up at the victorian mansion that is her house. She lives in downtown Raleigh where all of the old buildings legally can't be tampered with on the outside, and I only know that because I remember my dad telling me about it when we got ice cream once a couple of blocks over. I had to be about six at the time, and it bothers me that I remember it. I don't want to remember anything about him.
Moss lines the brick around her porch, and I have to step over some of it on the way up the steps. There's a brass knocker that feels rich and heavy in my hands as I thump it against the door. Joy opens it not even five seconds later.
"Hazel!" she says excitedly. She's changed out of her glittery ensemble from school and is now just in a pair of grey sweatpants and a pink sweatshirt. I'm unsurprised that she has animal fuzzy socks on. After all, she still has to remain Joy somehow. "Come in!"
I step inside the foyer, and it looks just as beautiful as the outside of her house. A huge wrap-around staircase leads to the upstairs, a sparkling chandelier hanging right down in the center. I don't want to be caught gawking at her house, but it's so much different from mine. I've never been anywhere like this.
"I didn't know what snacks you liked, so I grabbed a bunch and brought them up to my room. Do you like soda? If not, I have some juice, too. I'm not sure what flavor, though," she rambles as we climb upstairs. I don't think she even realizes that she lives in such a beautiful house, but I'm also grateful she doesn't touch on it.
"Should I take my shoes off?" I ask as I glance down at my sneakers, which are dirty against the hardwood of the stairs I've already stepped on.
"Oh, no, you're fine! Don't worry about it."
Does she have a maid that takes care of that?
Maybe her family has a housekeeper?
Joy's room makes me smile as soon as we step inside. There's pink everywhere, a white canopy draping over her enormous king bed in the center of the room. Two stuffed animals sit on her daisy-printed comforter, and a large fuzzy bean bag is in the corner next to a row of bookshelves.
I slip my shoes off as she walks to her mini fridge next to her dresser. "Okay, so...I've got Sprite, Mountain Dew, water, apple juice..."
"Anything is fine," I say, stripping myself of my coat. I'm awkwardly holding it in my hands until I eventually decide to drape it over her chair in front of her vanity.
She hands me a Sprite and points to all the different kinds of chips in bowls on top of the dresser. "Hopefully, you like these."
It's as if she's never had a friend over before, and it doesn't make sense. Joy is so fun and bubbly, and she has an incredible freaking house. Why doesn't she have parties here? Or friends over? I honestly don't get it.
