“This lady has a good voice,” Bea remarks at one point. We’re lying on the couches in the living room, empty ice cream bowls on the coffee table and a half-eaten bowl of chips between them. Bea’s got her feet up on the arm of the couch, tapping her feet to the beat of the music and singing along even though she doesn’t know the words.
“She does,” I agree. “She’s amazing.”
She lifts her head to look at me. “Sorry if I ruined your Friday night.”
That pop can that my heart crumpled into earlier, kicking around somewhere near my feet? It’s flattened.
I sit up. “Is that what you think? No, Bea.” I gesture around at us. “This is what I’d be doing anyway. But, you know. In the guesthouse.” I give her the biggest smile I can muster. “I promise.”
“Why are you smiling like that?”
I laugh. “I’m trying to show you I’m having fun.”
She grins, looking so much like her dad. “You’re weird.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“How do you make friends?”
“Um.” I blanch, scrambling. HowdoI make friends? I don’t. The people in my life have elbowed their way into it regardless of whether I wanted them there or not.
That’s kind of sad, isn’t it? Not really something I should be telling a nine-year-old.
“Why does your face look like that?” Bea asks, worry creasing her expression. “You don’t think I can make friends?”
“No, it’s not that.” I clear my expression. “I was just thinking and putting my words together.”
“Oh. I need to do that sometimes.”
“Yeah.” This kid is so cute. Kids are supposed to be sticky, bratty, and annoying, but Bea is funny and sweet. “My mom was really good at making friends. And my friend Georgia. They’re both really outgoing.”
Bea nods with understanding. “My mom’s like that, too.”
Again, my curiosity about the mysterious Holly burns in my chest. Another way I’m not Tate’s type.
“Someone like that would say to be yourself.”
“When I try to be myself, kids make fun of me.”
Rage. Red-hot rage. I have the overwhelming need to break into Bea’s school and smash all the glass.
“Some older kids at school called me a nerd because I was reading at lunch.”
I’m just going to burn the school down. I’ll go after Tate gets home, when the building will be empty.
“Are you okay?” Bea asks.
“Yes.” I blink. “Fine.”
“You aren’t breathing.”
“Yes, I am. See?” I take a deep breath through my nose. “Okay, Bea? Those kids have loser energy.”
“What’s loser energy?”
