“And the time he thought my stuffed meerkat was a squirrel.”
“And the time he got so sick when he didn’t follow Mom’s recipe closely enough and the eggs weren’t fully cooked in that birthday cake the rest of us refused to eat for my birthday?”
Mr. Monroe chuckles. “Really shouldn’t have made it two days early. Remember when he took Theo’s snow boots and thought his feet shrank because they were so loose?”
Emma’s rolling now. “And the gloves! He got Theo’s gloves too, and thought his hands shrunk!”
“Good thing he never tried Theo’s snow pants.”
Emma cackles.
She absolutely cackles with glee, and then she sighs happily, wiping her eyes once more. “We’ve been through so much.”
“Gottenthrough so much,” her dad says. “Won’t ever forget the way he sat up with you after Theo went to jail.”
Emma sighs. “He was so understanding.”
“He should’ve been, considering it was his fault,” my mouth says.
She blinks. “What?”
Mr. Monroe frowns at me. “What?”
Oh, crap.
Oh, crap crapcrap.
“How was that Chandler’s fault?” she asks.
I open my mouth again, and this time, silence comes out.
Claire gapes at me.
No.
No no no.
I didn’t say that. Tell me I didn’t say that.
I look at Mr. Monroe, and I swear it’s like looking at Theo’s future. Tall. Slender. Wrinkles lining his face. Lots of laugh lines. Thinning hair, but not receding.
And utterly confused.
I look at Emma again,prayingshe’ll be giving me themy father didn’t know, so come up with a cover story fastlook.
But instead, it’s pure confusion. “What did Chandler have to do with Theo going to jail?” she whispers.
“I—I must’ve heard something wrong,” I stammer.
“The Snaggletooth go-kart catastrophe,” she says. “Is that what you’re talking about?”
I gulp. “You—you know how I get details mixed up. I wasn’t even there. Classes out late for the semester and all.”
“What did you hear?”
“Ten years ago, wasn’t it?” Mr. Monroe interjects. “Eleven, even?”
“Laney?” Emma says.
