Read Online A Friend at Midnight by Caroline B. Cooney - Free Book Online Page B

men.” He tickled Nathaniel under the chin and motioned to Michael. “Let’s dress for church.”
    Kells had never gone to church until he married Mom. He had never expressed an opinion on church. It occurred to Lily that she had no idea what Kells thought about anything.
    â€œPoor Dennis,” said Mom to Lily. “Your poor father must be heartbroken. I should call him and make sure he’s all right.”
    Who cared if that snake was all right? What was the matter with Mom? Dennis was the creep she’d divorced, and as it turned out, for excellent reasons. Mom was a fine judge of character. “I think you should leave it alone for a while,” said Lily. “Let it sort itself out. Why don’t we go to the mall this afternoon while Nathaniel is napping and grab Michael a few outfits to tide him over?”
    There was nothing Mom liked more than the mall. She grabbed a pencil to make a shopping list and then dropped the pencil to crush Lily in a hug. “I haven’t even thanked you yet, Lily. You were so mature—getting to LaGuardia and managing Nate at the same time. I feel terrible you had to do it alone. But you rose to the occasion. I’m so proud.”
    Socks,
she wrote at the top of her list.
    Mom loved those ten-packs of socks. She felt that if you had fresh clean bright white socks on, all would be well.
    But she was wrong. Socks weren’t going to help. I have to tell her what really happened, thought Lily. She’s the mom. She needs to know.
    But she could not bring herself to damage her mother’s happiness. Her son had chosen her and he needed socks. What else was there?
    Lily went upstairs to fix her hair.
    In the boys’ room, Kells was laying out two sets of clothing. “Michael,” he said, “I think Jamie might press you for details. Sometimes it’s good to plan ahead how you’re going to answer difficult questions. Shall we think of a line you can use when Jamie asks how come you’re home?”
    Jamie—who believed in perfect fathers—was in Michael’s Sunday school class. And the person who remembered was the stepfather. And the person who was skeptical that Michael had gotten homesick was also the stepfather.
    Lily thought, I will not cry.
    â€œThe best line,” said Kells, “would be boring and easy to repeat. That way your own words don’t upset you. And then change the subject. For example, ‘Mom couldn’t stand to have me far away, so I’m back. Tell me about third grade, Jamie. What have I missed?’”

    During the second verse of the second hymn, the children left the church and went to Sunday school. When she was little, Lily had always been so eager for that second verse to come and never understood why they couldn’t leave on the first verse. What was the point of waiting? So she knew why Jamie leaped off his pew, looked in disgust at Michael—who hardly seemed alive, let alone aware of what verse they were on—and jerked the bottom of Michael’s tie. “Come on!” said Jamie. “What are you waiting for?” A month ago, Michael would have pummeled Jamie into little pieces for yanking him around, but this Sunday, he did not notice.
    Morning sun poured through stained-glass lilies and roses. The church was hot. The velvet pew cushions were comfy. People looked sleepy.
    Dr. Bordon read the text. Luke 11:5–13. The numbers sounded familiar, as if some distant Sunday school teacher had hoped Lily would memorize this.
    â€œJesus is speaking,” Dr. Bordon said. “And he says to a crowd listening to him, ‘If you had a friend, would you ever go to that friend at
midnight
and say to him, I need three loaves of bread, for another friend of mine has just arrived, and I have nothing to feed him?’”
    Lily didn’t know the story after all. Jesus was apt to be brief, and you’d better be paying attention or it would be