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“No.” She didn’t elaborate.
Benny and her mom were here. I was here. If it wasn’t Alexis, who was it? But then I knew.
I cleared my throat. “So, I was thinking, it’s probably best if we tell everyone we’re dating. Just in case.”
She tilted her head. “Huh?”
“You introduced me to Levi as your friend.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “Did I?”
“Yeah. It was just something I noticed. I just think we should be consistent, you know?”
“Sorry. Freudian slip,” she said. “Hey, what do you think about me telling him the truth?” she said, her voice low.
My pulse quickened. “Why would you do that?”
“He doesn’t talk to literally anyone we know. I don’t like lying if I don’t have to.”
She wanted to tell him she was single. Why did she want to tell him she was single? I felt panic rising in me like acid. I didn’t even know what to say.
She changed the subject and nodded in the direction my family had gone. “We should go find them, before my mom thinks I’ve abandoned her.” She looked back up at me. “Also, I’m going to have to serve you your food tonight, or my mom is going to think I’m mistreating you.”
I gave her a look. “But it’s my parents’ house…”
“Just let it happen, Jacob. I’m to treat you like the prince you are. My mom already left flowers to the Virgin Mary to thank her for sending you. You’ve been elevated to saint status.”
Well, at least her mom was pulling for me. I’d take what I could get.
Chapter 37
Briana
I was driving Mom and Benny home from Jacob’s. Dinner had gone well. Benny got to talk to Joy about her transplant. I think it made him feel better. He’d never actually met anyone who’d been through the surgery.
“Why was the parrot screaming about Bieber?” Benny asked from the back seat.
“He wakes up every day choosing demonic possession,” I said.
“And what’s up with the weird room with all the dead things?”
“I did not like that room,” Mom said. “So many eyes.”
“His dad’s a taxidermist. I think they’re funny,” I said, turning onto the freeway. “You didn’t like the raccoon on the skateboard?” I asked my brother.
Benny shrugged in the rearview. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Briana, why don’t you give that old man a cigarette?” Mom asked.
“He’s on oxygen, Mamá. It could make him hypoxic.”
“So? Does he have dementia? He can’t decide if he wants to smoke himself to death?”
“No, he doesn’t have dementia.”
“Then why no cigarette? You tell him, ‘Look, I give you this, and maybe you can’t breathe. You still want it?’ And if he says yes, then it’s yes. I’d give him one. You should give him one.”
“Joy doesn’t want him to have them.”