Chapter Twenty-One
The following Saturday, I’m watching a little girl dancing to some YouTube-gone-viral movie in my living room.
“You must be thirsty, Jade.” I put the root beer on the table.
She falls into my couch, catching her breath. “Thanks, Aunt Chelsea,” she sips it.
My heart warms at her use of the word aunt, because I’m not. But I look at it as a term of endearment.
“That’s an interesting dance.” I look at the kid on the television swinging her hips and her arms. I don’t really understand it, but whatever.
“It took me a long time to figure out. My friend Henry still can’t get his hips right.” Jade sits on the edge of the couch sipping her drink and watching the television.
“Your mom lets you watch this?”
Babysitting Jade for the night was a win-win for me. First, it does
