Again, But Better(50)

“Stop winking at me!”

“Well, have you?”

“Well, no!”

“Your novel?”

“I’m trying.”

I drop my head into my hands. What’s going on? Am I hallucinating, for real?

I look back up. “Why are you following me?” I growl slowly, enunciating each word as if she doesn’t speak English.

“Get on it, darling. Steer the raft.”

I shake my head. “Who are you? How did you—? Did you just read that in my—?” I hop off the stool, swipe the notebook off the counter, and sprint out into the street.

I’m out of breath, freaked out, starving, and shawarma-less when I throw open the door to the blue kitchen back at the Karlston. Who do I tell about this? Do I tell people about this … or will that make people think I’m insane?

“Hey, Shane!”

I jump, whirling to my right to find Atticus and Babe seated on the couch in front of a laptop, laughing.

“Holy crap. I didn’t see you guys there.”

“We’re about to watch Glee. Want to join us?”

“I…” I breathe in and out a few times, calming my heart.

“What, did you run home?” Atticus chuckles.

I shake my head and make a dismissive motion with the hand that’s not white-knuckling Horcrux Nine. “No, I, nothing, okay.” I walk over and flop down next to Babe.



* * *



On Glee, Mr. Schue’s class is prancing around and singing “Blame It on the Alcohol.” Babe and Atticus are singing along. I can’t stop thinking about the lady. How does she know where I’m going to be? Did someone hire her? Could my parents have arranged for a babysitter? Has she been mere steps away this entire time?

The door to the kitchen swings open, and Babe and Atticus seize up mid-note. I look up from the screen as Pilot walks through the door with a girl.

You’ve got to be shitting me.

A slim girl with long, brunette locks tags behind him. It’s her. She’s smiling up at him. I still haven’t talked to him. Atticus pauses Glee.

Guilt seeps into my cheeks. But I didn’t do anything! I haven’t done anything!

“Hey,” Pilot says, as the door thunks closed. They stand facing us. Amy only glances over before fixing her stare at the floor and positioning herself mostly behind Pilot.

“Hey,” we answer in chorus.

“This is Amy,” he says quickly. Dread builds in my chest at the thought of conversing with Amy. I can’t talk to Amy. I can’t.

“Hi!” I throw up my hand up in a nervous wave.

“Hi, Amy!” Babe says enthusiastically.

“Hey, nice to meet you!” Atticus exclaims.

Amy makes a face almost like a smile, but it doesn’t quite get there. She doesn’t say anything. Is she anxious? She’s wearing tight, skillfully ripped skinny jeans and a white sweater, and she’s naturally pretty in that way that makes me feel insecure about the fact that I feel the need to wear makeup.

Pilot moves, walking over to the sink, and Amy shuffles up right behind him, grabbing his hand as he fills up a clean glass with water. She leans into his ear and talks softly so none of us can hear. I stare blatantly. I don’t want to stare. But I can’t not stare. Pilot chugs his water and places the glass down in the sink.

This silence is deafening.

“Okay.” He turns to look at us again. “I’m off to go show her the—” He’s cut off by an obnoxiously loud rapping at the door. As one, all five of our heads whip toward the sound.

I leap off the couch like a spooked gazelle at the sight of my dad’s face in the window.





23. Thunderbolt and Lightning



Is this a nightmare? Am I asleep? I walk slack-jawed toward the door and open it. My parents spill into the kitchen. My parents are in our kitchen. My feet glue themselves to this spot on the floor. Mom’s in a stylish black jacket, her hair a blaze of bronze waves around her face. Dad’s in slacks and a button-up shirt, dark hair slicked back.

“Hi, sweetheart!” He sweeps me into a hug.

When he releases me, Mom swoops in. “Shane, surprise!”

I say nothing. Have I lost the ability to speak? Mom pulls away. I glance about the room. My flatmates and Amy watch us, unsure of what to do with themselves. Pilot and I make eye contact for a second, and I watch as understanding dawns in his expression.

A nauseating panic courses through my veins. This is too much right now. This is too much.

“Shane, who is everyone? Aren’t you gonna introduce us?” Dad throws up a hand and gestures around the room.

I swallow hard, vocal cords jolting to life at his command. “I, um, um, yeah, um, that’s um…” I glance over at the couch. “These are my parents.” I gesture to my mom and dad.

“Hey!” my father’s voice booms.

“Nice to meet you all,” adds my mother pleasantly.

“This is Atticus, and Babe … and…” I swivel to face Pilot and his girlfriend. Dear lord. “This is Pilot and Amy…”

My flatmates chorus a round of greetings.

“Great!” my dad announces. “We’re taking you all out to dinner right now. No exceptions. Let’s head out. Is anyone missing?”