Don't Kiss the Messenger (Edgelake High School, #1)(24)

She squinted up at me through the sunshine. “Isn’t that a little juvenile?”

“No. It’s romantic. It’s like an old fashioned courtship. Besides, we’re traveling so much, we hardly get to hang out in person. It makes sense.”

She nodded slowly. “Will you help me?”

I looked at her, questioningly. Bryn had always been clingy, annoyingly so, but now she looked physically pained.

I shook my head. “You’re on your own with this one.”

Bryn muttered out a sigh.

“Just be real,” I said. “Open up. Show him you’re not perfect. Expose yourself. I think he’d like that. Take some risks.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bryn said.





Chapter Eight


CeCe


I sat in the hotel room, staring at my phone. Tuba, VanBree, and Aisha were scouring the hallways, stalking the rugby team that was rumored to be staying here, which gave me a rare moment of alone time.

I hesitated as my thumb hovered over the call button. I sucked in a breath and called my parents landline number, willing my dad to answer. I had already tried his cell phone, and it was turned off.

My mom’s voice cut through the line and my back straightened. I cleared my throat.

“Hi. Mom?” I asked, as if I wasn’t sure what role she held in my life.

“CeCe?” she asked, as if questioning the same.

I nodded against the phone. “How are you?” I asked.

“Great!” Her voice sounded pumped with oxygen.

Great. She was always great.

I could hear her doing something through the phone. Cooking? Cleaning? Competing for most productive woman of the year award? Between working at the library and the chamber of commerce, planning church events, and running the city treasury, there was never a spare moment in her day.

“I’m organizing a charity booth at the apple festival this year,” she said. “I’m sewing together tablecloths as we speak.”

I knew better than to bring up her doctor’s visit. Our conversations were like a well choreographed dance, a beat never slipping out of place, never meandering from the routine.

“How’s Dad?” I asked.

“Out on the water, as always,” she said. “He scheduled a last minute fishing trip with some big-leagues from Minneapolis.”

“You’re probably ready for the season to be over,” I said. I took a chance. “It must be hard having Dad gone so much.”

“Hard?” my mom asked.

I rolled my eyes. Hard, as in the course, impenetrable material that surrounds your unwavering emotions, I wanted to say.

“Lonely?” I offered.

She laughed. “Edmonds don’t get lonely,” she said.

My mind flashed back to the football party. I could still see Emmett and Bryn together. I remembered the way he dipped his head down to whisper to her. I wondered what the sensation felt like, to have his voice so close, to feel his breath while he talked.

“We don’t get lonely,” I repeated.

“It’s good money, CeCe, I can’t complain. Your father is a work horse. Besides, if you rest, you rot.”

My mom could write one of those daily calendars, offering doses of wisdom to live by. I always found her optimism strange, since our emotions don’t follow a predictable forecast. You can’t program a brain with happy thoughts. My mom appeared set on defying psychology.

“When you’re dad’s gone, I get to turn the kitchen into my craft room,” she said. “I love it.”

“Great,” I said, falling back into our safe dialogue.

“How’s school?” she asked, and one class jumped to my mind.

“I’m taking Honors Shakespeare for an English elective,” I said. “There’s an interesting guy in the class.”

I felt my face flush at mentioning Emmett. I never talked to my mom about boys. That was strictly girlfriend material. But I listened to the other girls on the team call their moms when we were on the road and talk like sisters, gushing out their feelings. Sometimes it stirred a wave of jealousy in me. I was jealous they had some to confide in. Someone that would support them even if they messed up.

She whistled through her teeth. “Honors? Sounds advanced. Looks like all of those middle school tutors are paying off?”

I held back a sigh. My mom was always looking for vindication that all of the money they poured into my extracurriculars was worth it. Like I was their financial investment.

“Yes, Mom,” I assured her. “It’s all paying off.”

I said good-bye and stared down at the phone. There were all different types of mothers. Some were smothering, some were detached. Some weren’t in the picture at all. And like my scar had taught me, you can’t change what nature hands you. You had to make the most of it. But sitting here, I still couldn’t help wishing I had a mom who knew me. More than anything, I wished she would let me get to know her. You can’t be strong for people without knowing their cracks, their flaws, their broken places. That’s the only way we can hold each another together.

I set down my phone and someone knocked at the door. I scooted off the bed and my feet padded across the carpeting and I opened it. Bryn walked in clutching a laptop against her chest.