“What are you doing? I thought you didn’t get off work for another hour.”
She rushes out of her bathroom, her hair half-curled and her robe undone, revealing an old pair of boxer shorts and a grubby old blood-drive T-shirt.
“My last patient canceled. And... I’ve got a date!” she says, her voice raising a few octaves too high.
“Tonight?” Seriously? Why can’t we just go back to her dating this guy behind my back?
She twirls around with a light-blue gauze sundress draped over her arm. “Only if you don’t mind hanging out with Dad tonight. What do you say? Maybe you can invite a friend over? Oscar or even Kiera?”
“It’s—it’s a school night,” I blurt, like that somehow makes a difference. But it does! What kind of person goes on a date on a school night?
“I don’t have to go,” she says. And despite the brightness in her voice, her expression tells me she’d be super disappointed.
I feel immediately bad. Mom’s always the one who’s there to help me through the tough stuff. I once heard her and Dad arguing over how she was always the “responsible” one. If I think about it, that makes a lot of sense, and Mom deserves to let loose too. I guess.
“I’ll hang out with Dad,” I tell her, the guilt weighing so deeply on me I’m almost sinking into the floor. “You should wear the blue. It looks really nice.”
I go to the kitchen and retrieve King Cheese from his throne on the ironing board and take him to my room.
The letter I’d planned on replying to sits on my desk, but I just can’t imagine even thinking about someone else’s problems right now.
I get into bed and pull the covers up to my chin whileCheese paws at the door, anxious to get back to his perch, I’m sure. “Come on, buddy. Don’t you feel sorry for me?”
He meows in response and nudges the door with his head.
I throw the covers back and let him out before sitting down in front of my desk. I should’ve just responded to this letter when I had the chance yesterday and when I could use Miss Flora Mae’s typewriter. Maybe I’ll just throw it away. No one would ever know, especially with all those letters she never responds to. Mine included.
But then I think about the summer after Kiera ditched me. Outside of whatever the heck I’m going through right now with Mom and Dad, it was the loneliest, most confusing time in my life that I can remember. I mean, I’m sure grown adults trying to talk gibberish at me when I was a baby was also confusing, but luckily, I have no memory of that.
My pen hovers above my notepad.
Dear High & Dry,
First things first. No one deserves to be treated the way your friend is treating you. What might be hard to remember is that this probably isn’t your fault. I think people are a little bit like boomerangs, and you’ve got to let them go so that they can come back to you. But also, sometimes people are just badpeople and you gotta cut them loose. I don’t know what’s caused the change in your friend’s attitude, but it sounds like something they’ve got to deal with on their own. So give ‘em a taste of their own medicine. If they’re ignoring you, how about you ignore them back? And then, when all this blows over, you’ll either be down a friend—even if it’s a pretty crummy friend—or they’ll find their way back to you. But all you can do is live your life and be there for the people who want you around.
Sincerely,
Miss Flora Mae
I sit back in my chair and examine my handiwork. Without a doubt, my best letter to date. I think I’ve found my calling.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
First-Date Jitters
After some proper begging and promising Mrs. Bryant that Kiera and I will spend the night putting the finishing touches on our end-of-year research projects, Kiera gets to come over for a few hours.
As Mom is walking me over to Dad’s house, Mr. Bryant’s truck pulls up alongside the sidewalk.
As Kiera gets out, her dad calls to Mom, “Hey there, Liz,” he says.
She gives him a short wave but says nothing. It’s pretty obvious where her loyalty lies.
“Tell, uh, Andre I said hi,” he says.
Kiera and I exchange a look.
“You can tell him yourself,” Mom says. Without waitingfor Mr. Bryant to respond, Mom turns to me. “Call me if you need anything, baby.” She pushes a wave of hair behind my ear, but it’s quick to disobey. She searches my face for something. “Are you sure this is okay?”
