Read Online From Where I Watch You by Shannon Grogan - Free Book Online

there in the dark, by yourself, laughing at the moon?”
    My face flushes.
    “You’re not much of a talker are you, Sprinkles?”
    “Not when you call me that.”
    “How’s the job at Crockett’s going? Doesn’t seem like your type of place.”
    “Why do you say that? You don’t really know me.” I sigh because I can’t seem to get a word out that doesn’t sound bitchy. “I just need money.”
    “To get to San Francisco.”
    I want to say “duh” but again, I’m trying hard to be nice so I sip cocoa and get whipped cream on the end of my nose.
    Charlie laughs. “I asked the barista to put extra on it.”
    I stare at his reflection and the sweatshirt he wears.
    “Why are you wearing a Kennedy shirt?” I ask.
    “I go to school there, Kara.” His voice is dry, puzzled.
    I don’t know why it shocks me, but it does. He dropped out of sight freshman year, and now he’s back, only in private school. “But why? Why there?”
    “Just needed a change.” He turns away and swirls the coffee around in his mug. “When I came back.”
    All of a sudden I want to know everything about him because there are secrets behind his eyes. I want to know him.
    “Where were you?”
    He studies his cup for a moment. “California, Sprinkles. Wanted to learn how to surf. Isn’t that why anyone moves to California? Surfing or becoming famous? Or baking, in your case.”
    “You’re lying.”
    One corner of his mouth curls up into a smile and he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “So, are you going to San Francisco by yourself?”
    “I don’t need anyone else.”
    “Hmm, a girl, traveling alone.”
    I exhale slowly. The “alone” in his sentence makes me think of the notes, and I wonder if whoever wrote them is watching us right now. I also think of Mom, the former defense lawyer, and the arguments I’m going to need so she’ll let me go. “I’m a big girl, thanks, and I’ve pretty much grown up in a city. I can handle it.”
    “So what are you going to do with your big winnings?”
    “Um, I’m going to La Patisserie. Pastry School.”
    Charlie sets his mug down and leans back, smiling at me in a way that warms me like the cocoa does. Maybe I could tell him about the notes. For some reason, telling someone I don’t know very well seems like it might be easier than telling Mom or Noelle.
    “Okay. Sounds kind of French and snobby. That doesn’t really sound like you at all, Sprinkles.”
    Why is he laughing? He thinks it’s all a joke and I’m not sure why my dreams are so funny to other people. Words simmer inside of me, so I’m careful before I speak again. “If I want to have any credibility as a baker I have to go to a good school. I’m going to open my own bakery someday, maybe go to Paris and learn with the best. Anything to get me out of here.”
    “It isn’t so much better once you do get out of here, you know? Your problems still follow you.”
    My dad told me once that when the coffee beans come from the farmers, ready for roasting, the sacks have trash and cigarette butts inside because they are spread out on the street to dry before their journey to America. My insides twist and my eyes sting as I watch Charlie, with his permanent smile and half-full attitude toward life. Anger stirs inside me. “What do you know about problems, Charlie? Try having your whole life dumped upside down because your sister wasn’t there when you needed her and screwed up so badly she got herself killed. Try having your mom go from catatonic to crazy and drive away your prick of a dad. You don’t know anything about problems.”
    I take a huge swallow of cocoa so I can’t talk anymore.
    He looks down at his cup again. I look around to see people at the next table staring. I want to yell at them and I try to think of what Noelle, or Kellen, would say in my shoes. But I come up with nothing. Part of me wants to thank Charlie for the cocoa, but I can’t get the words out so I jump up and push my