Page 79 of Room to Breathe

“So much for keeping it a secret,” I said. “That was all for nothing.”

“It was worth a try,” Dad said.

“For one of us,” I responded.

“What’s that mean?” he asked.

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Is that all?” I asked, looking at the television and then my parents. “Or was there something else?”

“That’s it,” he said. “For now.”

“Great. I have homework.”

“Who was that boy on the porch?” Mom asked when I reached the stairs.

“My boyfriend. His name is Cody.” He wasn’t actually my boyfriend, at least he hadn’t asked me, but we’d kissed enough for me to assign him that title.

“A boyfriend you break into buildings with?” she asked. So shedidrecognize him from the video.

“Yep, the very one.” I finished the walk up the stairs and threw myself onto my bed. I really did have homework, but I couldn’t concentrate. My brain was all over the place.

I could’ve told my friends. I wished I’d told my friends.

Chapter 33

Now

I swallowed. His words,I want you back, seemed to linger in the air. Neither of us had taken any steps to close the seven between us. The wall behind me felt like it was holding me up at this point. I wondered if he felt the same about the counter behind him. We obviously still didn’t trust the other person. “Don’t say that,” I said. Especially when I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by it. Did he want me back as a friend? Did he want something more? I wasn’t sure how we could put all the broken pieces back together and make either of those things possible, no matter how much I wanted it.

“What do I have to do,” he asked, “to make us okay again?”

I blinked several times, emotion making my eyes sting. “I don’t know.”

“The fortune teller said we would be fine”—he nodded toward the cootie catcher on the ground—“if Ireallywanted it. I really want it.”

I let out an ironic chuckle. “You’re not supposed to tell me your question.”

“Did you ask it that question too?”

I nodded. “It told meno.”

“Good thing I’m always right.”

For some reason that statement—after us just talking about him turning me in, my whole life crumbling—was not helpful.

“I’m not,” he spit out, as if he realized this too. “It was a bad joke. I’m not always right. I wasn’t right about this. About you. About your dad.”

That last admission stopped me cold. “Why didn’t you come to me after you found out?” I asked. “When my dad’s stuff was all over the news? I mean, I know I’d been terrible to you. To everyone, but…” I didn’t know how to finish that.But didn’t you understand why after that? But didn’t that give you a good excuse to talk to me? But didn’t you care at all?

He shook his head. “Because…my mom…”

“Your mom wouldn’t let you see me?”

“Yes. She didn’t want people to see us together. And I was angry and an idiot. The news story just made me think I’d made the right decision.”

“That I was like my dad or something?”

“No,” he answered too quickly. “I mean…no.”