Chapters (58)
- Cover
- Praise for Abbi Waxman and her novels
- Berkley Titles by Abbi Waxman
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Summer
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- Fall
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Readers Guide
- Questions for Discussion
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“You came at a good time.” Bob pointed at a huge purple tree. “There are still a few late-blooming jacarandas around, and orchid trees everywhere. We had a good wet winter, so this summer has been amazing.” He shot her a look. “Sorry. Talking about the weather.”
She shrugged. “I’m into weather. My whole family spent a lot of time outside, peering at various flora and fauna.” She made a face. “Although I was the one running around while everyone else oohed and aahed over leaves and birds.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I was good at taking notes and holding things for them. Other than that I was a massive disappointment to them, I’m afraid.”
He looked at her very briefly. “You’re kidding.”
She reddened, and shook her head. “They don’t understand why I don’t want to be a scientist.” She looked out of the window. “Professionally, I mean.”
“Aren’t you going to be kind of a doctor? Isn’t that science-y?”
“I guess, sort of.” She fell silent.
He paused, and redirected the conversation a little. “So was your house full of animals, growing up?”
“Not really,” she replied, her voice still soft, “unless cockroaches count. Our apartment was pretty small, it was already a source of controversy that I had my own room while my brothers had to share; there really wasn’t space for pets. But we had pigeons on the roof, and often had injured animals in boxes around the place.” She thought back. “We had a juvenile squirrel one winter, but we weren’t allowed to keep it.” She remembered that scene very clearly, her begging her parents to let her keep Nutty, and her mother’s disdain for the idea. It’s a wild animal, Laura, it has a place, a contribution to make, we have no right to stop it from being who it is. Strangely, when she’d made a similar argument about her own career choice, her mother had mocked her: People don’t make a contribution, they’re an infestation that threatens the whole system. But to be fair, her mother wasn’t a complete misanthrope. Laura could think of three other scientists her mom liked, one of whom was still alive. Her lips twitched; worrying about her family’s opinion was fruitless.