Читать книгу The First To Know - Abigail Johnson, Эбигейл Джонсон - Страница 15

Chapter 10

Wednesday morning I slept in for maybe the first time in my life. And by slept in, I mean hid in my room waiting for Mom to drag herself down the stairs and into the steaming mug of coffee Dad always had waiting for her.

It was hard hearing him up and moving around downstairs. Most days, I’d be up with him—at least, when I wasn’t frantically finishing homework from the night before. We’d always been the early birds in the family, while Mom and Selena were the night owls. Dad and I never did much in the mornings. We never had deep father-daughter conversations, but we’d make breakfast and we’d sit together at the kitchen table grumbling at whatever ESPN was talking about. Eventually, Mom would stagger in like she’d just woken from a coma and Dad would start her coffee IV. Halfway through her second cup, she’d blink at the pair of us as though seeing us for the first time and join our grumblings. It was nice, routine. And I didn’t know if I’d ever have that again.

I waited until the last possible minute to go downstairs. Mom was mostly awake by then, not enough to articulate words, but she pointed vaguely in the direction of the toaster when she saw me. I grabbed an English muffin and a paper towel, acutely aware of Dad’s back as he refilled Mom’s swimming pool–sized coffee mug.

“That headache knocked you out, huh?” Dad’s voice made my eyes prick. It was normal, completely normal.

“Yeah. It’s fine now. I gotta get to school.”

“Hang on.” Dad turned and faced me, causing my stomach to plummet into my feet. I started backing out of the room. “I need you to come straight home after practice today. Selena is driving down and she has some news she wants to share.” He could barely contain his grin. Dad thought it was good news—which for him meant something softball related. For once I didn’t squirm with resentment that he’d never have beamed like that over me. Whatever it was, I knew she wasn’t reconsidering playing again. I also knew I wouldn’t be coming home right after school.

* * *

I found Nick outside the door of my first class when it let out. He smiled as soon as he saw me, which layered guilt into the slurry of emotions sloshing inside me. “Nick. Oh, I’m sorry. I should have texted you not to wait for me this morning.” I remembered what Jessalyn had told me the day before about him having to sprint to class. “I hope you weren’t late?”

“It’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, it was just one of those mornings.” I started walking, Nick keeping pace beside me. He had to slow his stride so as not to outstrip me.

“And everything else is...okay?”

He meant with my nonexistent grandfather, but Nick would never come right out and ask. I could have shown up carrying a severed head, and the most direct thing he’d ask was if I’d had a tough night. He was trying to be thoughtful by not prying, I knew that, but I wished he’d just say what he was thinking so I wouldn’t be able to dodge him. I’d gotten too good at doing that with him.

“Yep.” I half turned and took a few steps sideways. “Oh, you had that job interview at Mostly Bread after school yesterday, right? Did you get it? You did, didn’t you?”

Nick shifted the bag on his shoulder and dropped his eyes to his feet. “I think so. I’m supposed to hear soon.” He swallowed. “But did you—”

“Jessalyn probably gets to tell you in person. Have you seen her yet?”

“Um, no, but—”

“I bet she tells you at lunch.” We reached the end of the hallway. It split left toward my next class and right to his. I turned without stopping. “I’ll see you then, okay?” Our lunch group consisted of half my softball team—no way he’d be able to ask me anything then even if he worked up the nerve. I didn’t doubt Jessalyn’s ability to help Nick loosen up more in mixed company, but I didn’t think one conversation was going to do it.

“Dana.” Half the people in the hallway along with me turned to look at him. Nick could be heard when he wanted to. Whatever he was going to say to me withered under all the eyes trained on him. “I was just—I mean—”

“Tell me at lunch, okay?” Then I disappeared into the crowd of students around me.

* * *

I met Jessalyn in the pizza-cart line in the quad outside. I’d made better time than she had, and I let a couple people cut in front of me so that we could stand together.

“You were supposed to let me cut in line with you, not the other way around.” She smacked her palm lightly against my forehead, but she smiled. “Ugh, I despise cold pizza.” The pizza was never piping hot since Barro’s delivered it ten minutes before lunch started and the insulated delivery bags they were kept in could do only so much. Two people ahead of us weren’t going to make much of a difference, but Jessalyn enjoyed complaining, even when she didn’t have a reason. I thought it had something to do with her being an only child, and a late-in-life one at that. I wouldn’t call her spoiled, but I wouldn’t call her not spoiled either. She leaned toward me, frowning, and pointed at my eyes. “I’m guessing you didn’t get to sleep much last night. Damn, did your dad make you cry? Because you know there’s no crying in baseball.”