Eighteen (18)(32)

He gets up, throws his empty bottle in the trash with a clang that says it’s not his first today, and then grabs his keys and walks to the door. “You’re so dramatic, Shannon. It’s not my fault you f*ck every guy you meet on the first date.”

“Oh, is that what you think?”

“Jill talked just as much shit about you as you do about her. I know exactly who you are.” He walks out the door, slamming it behind him.

Olivia starts and begins to cry. “Shhhh,” I say to her, taking the bottle and lifting her out of that damn swing. I hold her close, rocking her a little as she rests her head on my chest. Poor baby. She’s stuck with him and she has no idea what kind of a piece of shit he really is. “I won’t leave you here,” I tell her softly. “I promise. I won’t leave you here.”

We sit on the couch and mindlessly watch TV together. Well, she drinks her bottle and I do the mindless stuff. And before long she’s her usual sleepy self. I take her back to Jason’s room and place her in her crib, covering her with a light blanket.

When I get back to the living room my phone is chiming a message.

Mateo: Did you eat?

Shannon: No.

I’ve been using the money Jason leaves on the counter for me for bus fare and school lunch all week. I haven’t eaten since last night. I’m secretly hoping for a dinner invite when Mateo messages back.

Mateo: Check the back porch.

I get up and walk to the sliding door and look down at the ground where a brown paper bag is sitting. I open the door and look to my right, trying to see if he’s in the alley beyond the gate, but there’s nothing there.

I grab the bag and go inside, my mouth watering before I even set it on the counter. There’s another note stapled to the bag, so I rip it off and open it up.

Remind me to remind you to tell me about how people underestimate you all the time.

Jesus Christ. He’s watching me. Listening, at the very least. I bet he came over with food and stood right outside the slider.

I sigh, take out the food—leftover lasagna, hot—and get a fork. I can’t shovel that stuff in my face fast enough, that’s how hungry I am. I’m lucky if I eat once a day. I’ve never been this skinny in my life. I’ve lost so much weight since we moved to California, I’m probably about a hundred pounds. Which doesn’t look bad on me, since I’m so short. But my stomach hurts every day from hunger. I just smoke to forget about it. I always have those, Jason has cartons of them on top of the fridge and for whatever reason, he doesn’t bitch about me taking them, so I help myself daily.

You’d think that * would at least bring food home from the restaurant, but no. He doesn’t.

My phone rings and I fish it out of my pocket and press accept. “Yeah,” I say.

“Hungry much?”

I turn around and look at the back patio. Mateo is leaning against the chain-link fence that separates him from a hundred cars a second whizzing past on the freeway below. He looks like he hasn’t got a care in the world.

“You’re a creep, you know that?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“What do you want?”

“No thank you?”

“Thanks,” I mumble, then let out a long sigh. “Really, I mean it. Thanks. I was starving.”

“I can tell. So you wanna tell me what that little meltdown was in school today?”

I just stare at him through the glass. “Why are you here? Why are you doing all this shit?”

“Are you going to finish that science work soon?”

“What?” Nice, I think. Change the subject as soon as it comes back to you.

“Shannon,” he starts. “Don’t ask me what when you hear me just fine.”

“Yes,” I snap. “I’m going to finish that f*cking science.”

“Good,” he says. “We’ll have class tomorrow at Gilbert. I’ve got a story to tell you. Make sure you’re there.”

And then he ends the call and walks off.





Chapter Nineteen




I enter Gilbert School at three-oh-five and make my way back to the class. There’s a few people in the office today, and one classroom towards the front with kids in there working quietly. When I get to room twenty-one, Mateo is sitting at the desk reading a book.

I rest my backpack against the leg of the desk and sit in the chair opposite him.

“You going to finally teach me something today? I’ve outlined seven chapters in that book already.”

He peers at me over the top of his book, which has the title Exoplanets and Alien Solar Systems on the cover.

“I’ve taught you a lot already. But I can understand why you’re missing the point.”

“Right. Don’t flatter yourself, Mateo. I knew how to f*ck before you showed up.”

He puts his book down. “I have no doubt.”

My face goes red. I wonder if he heard Jason basically call me a slut last night.

“Do you know what an exoplanet is?”

“No,” I sneer.

“Hmm,” he says, “too bad. It’s pretty interesting.”

“You said you had a story,” I remind him. “Something about why you have take-out containers and food delivery bags.” I’ve already worked out that his parents probably owned an Italian restaurant and that’s why he can cook lasagna from scratch and has takeaway bags.