I'll Stop the World (9)

After an hour, Lisa couldn’t take it anymore. She either had to say something or spontaneously combust, neither of which would have worked out in her favor. Charlene’s parents already hated that their daughter’s best friend was Black, and that her mother was running against their beloved Franklin for mayor; all it would take was one instance of Lisa losing control for them to forbid the two of them from seeing each other entirely.

Lisa and Charlene couldn’t risk that. So instead, they’d left.

Charlene walked into the kitchen, her arms loaded with poster board, a brown fast food bag dangling from one hand. “Oh, hi, Rose.”

Charlene had actually been Rose’s friend first, back in fourth grade. Lisa had stayed home for a week with chicken pox, and when she returned to school, a new girl with blonde pigtails was pushing Rose on the swings. They quickly hit it off and stayed a trio throughout the rest of elementary and middle school.

Since high school, though, their dynamic had shifted. Rose had branched off toward Noah, Lisa had started dating Shawn, and somewhere in the midst of all that, she and Charlene had become . . . something else.

Now Charlene’s round cheeks were flushed from the unseasonable heat, setting off her freckles in stark contrast to her fair skin. Blonde curls pulled free of her ponytail to cling to her neck, and she had a smear of blue paint across her forehead where she’d brushed her hair out of her eyes with stained fingers.

She looked beautiful.

Lisa grinned, standing hastily and shoving the mostly empty casserole plate toward Rose. “Hey, would you mind putting that in the dishwasher?” she asked, eyes still on Charlene.

“Oh. I guess. Sure.”

“We can talk more later tonight, though?” Lisa said. She took the fast food bag from Charlene, their fingers brushing. A shiver of heat ran up Lisa’s arm.

“Want to go work on this up in my room?” she asked. Charlene nodded before the question had finished leaving her lips.

Rose said something else, maybe yeah or okay or some other single-breath agreement, but Lisa didn’t catch what it was, or remember what exactly she had asked.

We’ll talk later, Lisa assured herself as she and Charlene hurried up the stairs.





Chapter Four


SHAWN

Shawn waited for Rose to drive away before pulling his house key from his pocket and letting himself inside. Carefully, he untied his sneakers and placed them on the rack by the front door, keeping an eye out for any renegade crumbs of dirt that might try to sneak from his shoes onto the spotless linoleum. His eyes fell on his schoolbooks, the citizenship-award plaque perched neatly on top. For a second, he considered leaving the plaque on the hall table for his father to see when he arrived home, but then picked up the whole stack. Wouldn’t want to create clutter.

After dropping the books off in his room, Shawn walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He stared inside for a minute, wishing he’d thought to actually go into the grocery store when he’d stopped to see Rose and Noah. Breakfast for dinner it was.

Draping his headphones around his neck, Shawn got to work cracking eggs and arranging bacon in a skillet. He sang along to the music trickling out of the tiny speakers, swapping out the lyrics on occasion for whatever similar rhymes popped into his head. He was in a good mood tonight; finally, he had done something that his father might actually be proud of.

He was in the middle of running a block of bright-yellow cheddar over a box grater, repeating an absentminded chorus about “sweet dreams of shredded cheese,” when he froze, listening. A familiar mechanical hum rumbled over the music.

The garage door. His dad was home early.

Shawn looked over the messy countertop in dismay, taking in the open egg carton, the half-empty package of bacon, the little flecks of cheese that had escaped the bowl he’d placed under the grater. He’d thought there would be time to clean up.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Moving quickly, he put away the eggs and bacon, and was just sweeping the cheese crumbs into his hand when his dad walked in. Shawn straightened, closing his fingers around the detritus in his palm.

His dad frowned, his copper mustache pulling down at the corners. “You planning on keeping that, son?”

“Sorry.” Shawn dumped the crumbs down the sink as he washed his hands, deflecting the flow of the water to make sure no bits of food lingered in the gleaming basin.

Shawn cleared his throat as he dried his hands. “Dad, I’ve got some good news.”

“Hrm.” His father didn’t bother to look at him as he flipped through the mail.

“I won the Buford County Citizenship Award today.”

Shawn waited for his father to respond, maybe even congratulate him, but he just kept examining the stack of bills, his expression unchanging. Did he not understand what a big deal this was?

“It’s full tuition, for four years,” Shawn explained, pressing ahead. He searched his father’s face for pride, relief, surprise, anything that might indicate even mild interest in his son’s accomplishment. His father had never praised him for good grades or championship-worthy athletic seasons—excellence was expected for the son of Gabe Rothman; anything less was to fail—but surely even he could see that this went above and beyond mere excellence. “They only award one a year for the whole county, out of hundreds of applicants. It’s a really big honor—”