ever seen from her, and it makes me like her more.
While Liz shows them to their separate rooms, I retreat to the kitchen.
Dark-Eyed Boy is leaning against the marble counter. “Sounds like my cover’s blown.” He stares at the cookie jar. “Think your mother’s going to call the sheriff or just kick me out?”
“I don’t know her well enough to guess.”
“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”
I don’t want to stay here alone. “Who cares if she calls the sheriff?” I say. “We can run away together. Skip town.”
“And go where?” It’s weird to hear him sound so hopeless. Earlier in the day, I’d poked holes in his cloudless optimism, just to vent my own frustration. Now I miss it.
“We’ll go wherever we have to go.” I put my hand over his. “Maybe find a big city, where there’s a real hospital. And we’ll just keep moving till we get help or our memories come back on their own. We have money now—”
“ Some money, and that’s your safety net. I’m not touching it.”
I try not to feel insulted that he’s turning down my offer to share what I have. “It’s ours, really,” I say. “I never even would have found it if it wasn’t for you. Don’t be such a hero. Let me help you for once.”
“All right.” Liz wanders in, looking dazed. “If that was Jim I just led into the Country Sun Suite, then who exactly are you?”
“He’s my friend,” I say. “He’s been there for me and he really needs a place to stay for a while. And if you don’t let him crash here when we have plenty of room . . . then I’m leaving too.”
“Elyse—”
“No, it’s true. If you can’t take both of us, you can’t have either of us.”
Liz looks from me to him and back. “Well, there’s no need to be so dramatic.” She sounds exasperated. “A friend of my daughter is a friend of the family,” she says, patting his knee. “For now you can stay in the Rustic’s Cottage.”
“Seriously?” From the way his eyes are shining I can tell that her generosity’s making him feel ashamed of lying to her before.
“It’s in the backyard,” she warns, “and you’ll have to be all right with taking a bath instead of a shower since the curtain rod broke last week.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You just did.” She pulls a key ring from her pocket and removes one key.
“Hey, who’s renting the Cottage?” says a hearty voice. A big, tall man strides into the kitchen.
“Honey!” Liz runs over to kiss his cheek. “Did you order the new shower rod?”
“They’ll have it in day after tomorrow.” He thrusts out his hand amiably at Dark-Eyed Boy, who shakes it. “Don’t believe we’ve met, sir. I’m Jeffry Alton.” Even though he’s being friendly and polite, I can pick up subtle hints of suspicion in his voice. “So, you a student? Staying in that Cottage all alone?”
“He doesn’t speak much English,” I say quickly. “He’s from . . . Brazil.”
Whoa, did I just lie?
I spontaneously lied to my own father—just to keep him from asking Dark-Eyed Boy too many questions. How could I do that, after my whole song and dance earlier about how Lying Is Bad and Wrong? What a hypocrite. Sure, I don’t want to do anything to risk Dark-Eyed Boy getting to stay here. Still, this is my father we’re all deceiving, I think, and guilt nags at me. Then I notice several white dots on his chin and pick up on a familiar medicinal smell. Good god, is that . . . pimple cream? My father’s face is covered in pimple cream? I hope his acne isn’t hereditary. Jeffry Alton’s blue eyes, set deep in his ruddy square face, meet mine and I look away.
“Full house, and a rich foreigner to boot.” Jeffry smiles broadly and rubs his hands together. “Looks like the season’s heating up.”
Chapter 12
DARK-EYED BOY
“So, what was that guy Jim talking about?” Elyse presses her mom when Jeffry’s headed down to the basement to watch TV. “What’s
While Liz shows them to their separate rooms, I retreat to the kitchen.
Dark-Eyed Boy is leaning against the marble counter. “Sounds like my cover’s blown.” He stares at the cookie jar. “Think your mother’s going to call the sheriff or just kick me out?”
“I don’t know her well enough to guess.”
“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”
I don’t want to stay here alone. “Who cares if she calls the sheriff?” I say. “We can run away together. Skip town.”
“And go where?” It’s weird to hear him sound so hopeless. Earlier in the day, I’d poked holes in his cloudless optimism, just to vent my own frustration. Now I miss it.
“We’ll go wherever we have to go.” I put my hand over his. “Maybe find a big city, where there’s a real hospital. And we’ll just keep moving till we get help or our memories come back on their own. We have money now—”
“ Some money, and that’s your safety net. I’m not touching it.”
I try not to feel insulted that he’s turning down my offer to share what I have. “It’s ours, really,” I say. “I never even would have found it if it wasn’t for you. Don’t be such a hero. Let me help you for once.”
“All right.” Liz wanders in, looking dazed. “If that was Jim I just led into the Country Sun Suite, then who exactly are you?”
“He’s my friend,” I say. “He’s been there for me and he really needs a place to stay for a while. And if you don’t let him crash here when we have plenty of room . . . then I’m leaving too.”
“Elyse—”
“No, it’s true. If you can’t take both of us, you can’t have either of us.”
Liz looks from me to him and back. “Well, there’s no need to be so dramatic.” She sounds exasperated. “A friend of my daughter is a friend of the family,” she says, patting his knee. “For now you can stay in the Rustic’s Cottage.”
“Seriously?” From the way his eyes are shining I can tell that her generosity’s making him feel ashamed of lying to her before.
“It’s in the backyard,” she warns, “and you’ll have to be all right with taking a bath instead of a shower since the curtain rod broke last week.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You just did.” She pulls a key ring from her pocket and removes one key.
“Hey, who’s renting the Cottage?” says a hearty voice. A big, tall man strides into the kitchen.
“Honey!” Liz runs over to kiss his cheek. “Did you order the new shower rod?”
“They’ll have it in day after tomorrow.” He thrusts out his hand amiably at Dark-Eyed Boy, who shakes it. “Don’t believe we’ve met, sir. I’m Jeffry Alton.” Even though he’s being friendly and polite, I can pick up subtle hints of suspicion in his voice. “So, you a student? Staying in that Cottage all alone?”
“He doesn’t speak much English,” I say quickly. “He’s from . . . Brazil.”
Whoa, did I just lie?
I spontaneously lied to my own father—just to keep him from asking Dark-Eyed Boy too many questions. How could I do that, after my whole song and dance earlier about how Lying Is Bad and Wrong? What a hypocrite. Sure, I don’t want to do anything to risk Dark-Eyed Boy getting to stay here. Still, this is my father we’re all deceiving, I think, and guilt nags at me. Then I notice several white dots on his chin and pick up on a familiar medicinal smell. Good god, is that . . . pimple cream? My father’s face is covered in pimple cream? I hope his acne isn’t hereditary. Jeffry Alton’s blue eyes, set deep in his ruddy square face, meet mine and I look away.
“Full house, and a rich foreigner to boot.” Jeffry smiles broadly and rubs his hands together. “Looks like the season’s heating up.”
Chapter 12
DARK-EYED BOY
“So, what was that guy Jim talking about?” Elyse presses her mom when Jeffry’s headed down to the basement to watch TV. “What’s
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