Страница 47 из 60
“And we didn’t do anything but talk.”
Andy crosses his arms. “How long has this been going on?”
I tell the truth. I want him to believe me so that he’ll also believe Cricket is i
He closes his eyes. “Was this before or after you broke up with Max?”
My head sinks into my shoulders. “Before.”
“And did you tell Max?”
It sinks farther. “No.”
“And that didn’t make you wonder if there was something wrong with it?”
I’m crying. “We’re friends, Dad.”
Andy looks pained as he sits on the edge of my bed. “Lola. Everyone and their grandmother knows that boy is in love with you.
You
know that boy is in love with you. But as wrong as it was for him to be here, it’s so much worse for you to have led him on. You had a boyfriend. What were you thinking? You don’t treat someone like that. You shouldn’t have treated either one of them like that.”
I didn’t know it was possible to feel any worse than I already did.
“Listen.” The look on Andy’s face means he’d rather eat glass than say what he’s about to say. “I know you’re growing up. And as hard as it is, I have to accept that there are certain . . .
things
you’re doing. But you’re an intelligent young woman, and we’ve had the talk, and I know—from this point on—you’ll make the right decisions.”
Oh God. I can’t look at him.
“But you have to understand this part is difficult for us, especially for Nathan. Norah was your age when she ran away and got pregnant. But you can talk to me. I
want
you to talk to me.”
“Okay.” I can barely get the word out.
“And I
don’t
want to find a boy in your room again, you hear me?” He waits until I nod before standing. “All right. I’ll talk to Nathan and see what I can do. But don’t for a second think you’re getting out of this easily.”
“I know.”
He walks to the door. “Never. Again. Understand?”
“What . . . what about when I’m married?”
“We’ll buy a cot. Your husband can sleep on that when he visits.”
I can’t help it. I let out a tiny snort of laughter. He comes back and hugs me.
“I’m not kidding,” he says.
The punishment arrives in the afternoon. I’m grounded through the end of my upcoming winter break from school. Another month of grounding. But, honestly, I don’t even care. It’s the other half of the punishment—the unspoken half—that makes me feel terrible.
My parents no longer trust me. I have to earn it back.
Throughout the day, I try to catch Cricket at our windows, but he never goes inside his bedroom. Around three o’clock, I see his figure dart past his kitchen window, so I know he’s still at home. Why is he avoiding me? Is he embarrassed? Is he angry? Did my parents call his parents? I’ll die if they called Mr. and Mrs. Bell, but I can’t ask, because if they haven’t, it might give them the idea.
I’m a wreck by the time Cricket’s light turns on. It’s just after eight. I throw aside my English homework and run to my window, and he’s already at his. We open them at the same time, and the misty night air explodes . . . with
wailing.
Cricket is holding Aleck’s daughter again.
“I’m sorry!” he shouts. “She won’t let me put her down!”
“It’s okay!” I shout back.
And then I realize something. I slam my window shut. Cricket looks startled, but I hold up a finger and mouth
ONE SECOND.
I rip out a page from my spiral notebook and scribble on it with a fat purple marker. I hold the message against my window.
MY PARENTS!!! TALK LATER? WHEN NO BABY!!!
He looks relieved. And then panicked as he slams his own window shut. The next minute is rife with tension as we wait for my parents to tear into my bedroom. They don’t. But even with our windows closed, I hear Abigail’s cries. Cricket bounces her on his hip, pleading with her, but her face remains contorted in misery.
Where is Aleck? Or Aleck’s wife? Shouldn’t they be taking care of this?
Calliope bursts through Cricket’s door. She takes Abigail from him, and Abigail screams harder. Both of the twins wince as Calliope thrusts her back into Cricket’s arms. The baby grows quieter, but she’s still crying. Calliope glances in my direction. She freezes, and I give a weak wave. She scowls.
Cricket sees her expression and says something that causes her to stalk away. Her bedroom light turns on seconds later. He’s turning back toward me, still bouncing Abigail, when Mrs. Bell enters. I yank my curtains closed. Whatever is going on over there, I don’t want his mom to think I’m spying on it.
I sit back down with my five-paragraph essay for English, but I can’t concentrate. That familiar, nauseating feeling of guilt. When I saw the Bells in their driveway last week, they were clearly in distress about
something.
And I never asked Cricket what it was about. He was in my bedroom for an entire night, and I didn’t even think to ask. And he’s always concerned about what’s happening in my life. I’m so selfish.
A new kind of truth hits me:
I’m not worthy of him.
His light turns off, and the sudden darkness acts as a confirmation of my fears. He’s too good for me. He’s sweet and kind and honest. Cricket Bell has integrity. And I don’t deserve him. But . . . I want him anyway.
Is it possible to earn someone?
He doesn’t return for nearly two hours. The moment he’s back, I raise my window again. Cricket raises his. Exhaustion has settled between his brows, and his shoulders are sagging. Even a lock of hair has flopped onto his forehead. I’ve
never
seen Cricket’s hair fall down. “I’m sorry.” His voice is tired. He keeps it low, conscious that the parental threat has not passed. “For last night. For this morning, for tonight. Your parents didn’t come up, did they? I’m such an id—”
“Stop, please.You don’t have to apologize.”
“I know. Our rule.” He’s glum.
“No. I mean, don’t apologize for last night. Or this morning. I wanted you there.”
He raises his head. Once again, the intensity of his eyes makes my heart stutter.
“I—I’m the one who’s sorry,” I continue. “I knew something was going on with your family, and I didn’t ask. It didn’t even cross my mind.”
“Lola.” His brow deepens farther. “You’re going through a difficult time. I would never expect you to be thinking about my family right now. That would be crazy.”
Even when I’m in the wrong, he puts me in the right.
I don’t deserve him.
I hesitate.
Earn him.
“So . . . what’s going on? Unless you don’t want to tell me. I’d understand.”
Cricket leans his elbows against his windowsill and looks into the night sky. The star on his left hand has faded from washing, but it’s still there. He waits so long to answer that I wonder if he heard me. A foghorn bleats in the distance. Mist creeps into my room, carrying the scent of eucalyptus. “My brother left his wife last week. Aleck took Abby, and they’re staying here until he figures out what to do next. He’s not in great shape, so we’re kinda taking care of them both right now.”