“What’s up?”
“Mom loved jalapeño Cheetos.”
“Oh, Beanie, I know. The date’s coming up soon, isn’t it?”
I nod. “September sixteenth.” The day Mom died and left me in charge.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I look over to where Pepe’s taken refuge on the chair in front of my workbench. “Pepe loves me.”
“He does.”
“Dad loves me. My sisters do.”
“Yep.”
“You too?”
“With all my heart, Beanie.”
“Grant Bowman is a dick.” I sound whinier than I’d like, but my god, why’d he send me away like that? All,you’ve got to get outta here.
“Pretty much.”
“He’d hate these chips.”
She snickers. “He’d like them ’cause they were expensive.”
“Oooooh, yeah. Definitely. So much that. ’Cause he’s a snob.”
“Hmm.” She seems to consider. “Is he?”
“Maybe. Probably.” Another sip. The watermelon’s starting to feel too sweet on my tongue. “Berk.”
“Here.”
Sam grabs my glass and shoves another into my hand. It’s cold and slippery with condensation. “What’s this?”
“Water. Try it. You’ll like it.”
“Ha ha.” I slug back the full glass. “Oh god, yes.”
“More?”
At my nod, she stands and walks the three steps to the sink, where she fills it again, pries a couple of ice cubes out of the tray, plops them into my glass, and returns the tray to my mini freezer.
“You’re so good, Sam.” I accept the glass. “So nice to me.”
“What now?”
“You put the ice away.”
“Course I did. Who wouldn’t?”
“Brendan.”
“Your ex was a turdface.”
