“Thanks,” I manage, my throat tight. “Really. This means a lot.”
Kiki pulls me into a hug then steps back and surveys the apartment with her hands on her hips. “Did you unpack your clothes?”
“I’ll get to it.”
Kiki moves toward the stack of boxes against the wall, reading the labels I scrawled in marker. “What have you unpacked?”
“I was waiting for Cricket to come,” I admit. “She said she’d come over to work on her novel while I unpacked. I’m surprised she hasn’t shown up yet.”
A glance passes between Tobias and Kiki.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Kiki says quickly. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon. Her parents got back today, right?”
“Not yet. They’re coming tomorrow.”
Kiki shakes her head. “I saw their car in front of their house. I’m pretty certain they’re back.”
Panic seizes me. Cricket’s parents came home a day early? She’s going to be freaking out. “I’ve got to go over there.”
Tobias shifts his weight. “We should probably get going anyway. We need to get ready for Skyler’s birthday party next week.”
At the mention of her birthday, Skyler comes running over. “I get a Bluey party!”
I pat her on the head. “That’s awesome. I can’t wait.”
They gather their things and head toward the door. Kiki pauses on the threshold and turns back to me. “Micah? Don’t be afraid to talk to Cricket about… things.”
“We talk.”
“I know,” Kiki says, her expression softening with something like sympathy. “Just… open up to her. She needs to hear what’s in your heart.”
Before I can ask what she means, they’re gone, their footsteps echoing down the stairs. I need to go be with Cricket, but I have no reason to go over there. Would it be stupid if I just show up? I pace the floor, trying to think of something. At the last second, I grab my guitar, thinking I could use the excuse that I need her help with my new song.
I get in my car and race over to Cricket’s house. As I pull up to the front, I see her parents’ car. Kiki was right. They’re home.
Just great. I was going to be there when Cricket faced them. I guess late is better than never.
CHAPTER 34
Cricket Jenkins
Saturday, December 12
I sitin my room listening to the muffled sound of my parents talking in the kitchen downstairs. Their voices drift up through the heating vents. They sound happy, relaxed after their trip to Asia. The sound makes my stomach twist into knots again.
They came home a day early, pulling into the driveway just as I was finishing my lunch. I heard the car doors slam and rushed outside to see them.
After the hugs and kisses and initial flurry of “we missed you” and “how was your trip,” I made an excuse about having schoolwork due Monday and holed myself up in my room like a coward.
And now I don’t know what to do.
My stomach twists again as I hear their voices shift from the kitchen to the living room, their easy conversation, the familiar rhythms of them settling in after a long journey.Meanwhile, I’m up here trying to work up the courage to shatter their homecoming with news that will devastate my father.
I pick up my phone to text Micah, because he said he’d be here for me, but the doorbell rings, and in my gut, I know it’s him. I race down the stairs so I can answer before my parents get up. “I’ve got it!” I yell.
I throw open the door. Micah stands there with his guitar, like a hundred other times I’ve seen him, but this time, I feel like weeping for joy. “Come in,” I say, breathless.
