Not If I See You First(20)



I’m laughing too hard to contribute.

“That’s… it…” I finally gasp. “I knew there was some deeply buried reason why you’re still with Rick. He’s your excuse to wear comfy clothes!”

“What’s your excuse?”

“Oh, you know I don’t need one, Sarah. The real mystery is why the rest of you do.”

“Sad but true. I have no answer other than out of sight, out of mind.”

“Very funny,” I say. “Oh, hey, is Molly heavy?”

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“Sheila said something. And it solves a minor mystery that’s been at the back of my mind, why I hear Molly breathe hard sometimes. And her chairs creak. And Rick talks about her lunch in ways that sound weird but I always forget to ask you about later.”

“Yeah, he’s an * but doesn’t know it. She’s definitely sturdy but not enormous. I think she’d actually be very pretty if she wasn’t so heavy.”

“Is that what you think?” I say. “Skinnier is prettier?”

“No. You know what I mean. Well, okay, maybe you don’t. The point is, there are girls who are crazy pretty who end up going to Hollywood and never pay for anything the rest of their lives. Sometimes they get really heavy and aren’t as pretty anymore, but you can still tell by looking at them that if they lost the weight they’d be gorgeous. Bone structure, I guess. I think that might be Molly.”

“Okay, this is getting weird.”

“Oh? Since when do you not like this kind of conversation?”

“Who said anything about not liking it? But you know I don’t care what people look like unless it affects what they are like.”

“Maybe that’s true for Molly. I don’t know her well enough. She’s a tough read.”

“So are you, Sarah. So are you.”

“Well, some of us have to balance out you broadcasters.”

“Moving on…”

“Okay, who’s Jason?”

“What?! What did that bitch tell you?”

Sarah snickers. She’s so subdued all the time I consider it a victory. I can’t even put into words how good it feels when I get her to laugh, or even just her little versions of it.

“She said she saw you at the mall chatting up some hot guy—”

“He was helping me buy shoes! He was an employee!”

“I don’t know what you’re getting all defensive about. It’s just a simple question.”

“Wait a minute… I never told Faith his name.”

“Maybe he was wearing a name tag.”

Damn people and their damn eyes.

“So… tell me about him.”

“What’s there to tell? I went to Running Rampant, bought a pair of running shoes, and the guy that helped me is from Jefferson. I can’t tell you what he looked like, and he sounded… normal, I guess, which is a plus in this world. What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me why Faith stood outside the store for ten minutes watching you.”

“Jesus, she spied on me for ten minutes? That’s creepy.”

“She said when you talk to people you’re usually like a little pill bug, all dark and closed up, but with this guy, you were open and glowing—”

“Glowing? She said I was glowing?”

“Direct quote. And you were waving your arms around. She was worried you might smack him or knock something over.”

“I was not waving my arms around!” Was I?

“She said you were a waving lunatic.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Fine. I’m not going to let you change the subject. Answer the question.”

“I forget. What was it?”

“Stop being so coy. What made this guy so special?”

“I never said—”

“Parker!”

“All right!” I take a breath. “I don’t know what it was.”

“You’re admitting to being at a loss for words? Careful, I don’t think I can handle my world turning upside down twice in one conversation.”

I take another breath. “All I can say is, he knew how to talk to a blind girl.”

“Damn, girl, that’s all you needed to say.”





NINE


Today’s going to be a shitty day. Sometimes you just know.

After my alarm woke me up, Stephen Hawking reminded me that a week from tomorrow is Dad’s birthday. I have reminders set up early for things I need time to prepare for. I deleted it.

At Gunther Field I have this feeling I’m being watched. I stop at a couple of turns and stand perfectly still to listen. Once I call out to see if anyone’s there; I don’t hear anything. Just paranoid about that coach watching me last Friday.

As if that’s not enough, I get a text from Molly saying she’s staying home sick—with symptoms too unpleasant to describe—probably just something she ate so she’ll be back tomorrow. Classes will be a pain today.

All leading up to me sitting in Trig before the bell, regretting my decision to come to school at all since I’ll just catch up with Molly on everything tomorrow when she’s back.

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