Chapter 16Pidge’s mother must have been watching for him from the window; she hurried outside and onto the wet front steps, rubbing her arms in their thin, beige, cardigan. She was thin, too, even thinner than he remembered. Probably without him to make meals for, she just drank tea half the time. She and her mother and sister were all designed out of pointy triangles. Pidge’s circles must have come from his father.
His mother gave the air near his cheek a quick peck. “Sweetpea, what are you wearing? Hurry upstairs and change into something nice before you say hello to everyone. Quickly, it’s almost noon. The first bedroom on right. With David and Garrison.”
Pidge managed to not make a face. His mother was picking at the edge of his green and blue plaid shirt as if it were dirty. It was
