produces his own magazine, which he passes around school and hands to strangers on buses. Though he editorializes about stuff that happens at school and world events in general, his focus is definitely on music.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’m pretty stoked.”
Silence.
I take another bite of Pop-Tart. It tastes like sand.
“So . . . anything new with you?” Rollins asks, his voice strained. He’s clearly trying to move past this weirdness between us.
I search for something to talk about. Then I realize I haven’t even told Rollins about my aunt Lydia randomly showing up on our doorstep. Under normal circumstances, Rollins would have been the first person I called.
“Yeah, actually,” I say. “You’ll never guess who showed up Friday night after—after you left.”
Rollins looks uncomfortable at the reference to his abrupt departure. “Who?”
“My aunt Lydia, who I’ve never met before. I guess she ran away to California when she was a teenager and never came back. Until now. Anyway, she turned up on our doorstep with a suitcase.”
“Crazy,” Rollins says. “What does she want?”
“She claims she just wants to get to know her family, but I think that’s just a cover story. She could have come back at any time, right? Besides, some really weird stuff has been happening since she got here.”
Rollins twirls his Sharpie, looking interested. I’m relieved that Lydia’s sudden appearance has given us something neutral to talk about. “What weird stuff?”
“Well, think about it. I got into that accident on Thursday night. What if she had something to do with it? She could have gotten here on Thursday and stayed at a hotel or something. Maybe she’s able to slide. Maybe she forced me to steal my dad’s car and drive out into the country.”
Rollins looks doubtful. “But why ? What would be her motivation?”
“That’s the kicker. My dad said she got into a huge fight with my mom when they were in high school. She vowed to destroy everything my mom ever loved. Hence the car accident. She’s trying to kill me.”
Rollins clears his throat. “If she actually slid into you, wouldn’t she need something with your emotional imprint on it? She would’ve needed it before she even got to your house, since someone slid into you the night before, right?”
Stupid, rational Rollins.
“Well, what about this? Last night I woke up to a crashing noise. When I went downstairs, I found my dad throwing pictures everywhere. He busted his own wedding portrait. He was totally out of it, like someone else was controlling his actions. When he finally realized where he was, Lydia showed up. And she was wearing his bathrobe .”
The dubious expression on Rollins’s face gives way to thoughtfulness. “That is a pretty big coincidence.”
“Right? If she slid into him, she was forcing him to break wedding pictures of his dead wife. Pretty sick.”
“I don’t know. It still seems like a stretch. Saying you’ll destroy everything someone loves is pretty melodramatic, like something you’d say during a fight and then forget five minutes later. I seriously doubt she’s trying to wreck your family. I bet Lydia just realized how lonely she was and decided to come back and meet her nieces.”
I crumple up the wrapper from my Pop-Tart. “Maybe . . .” I say, even though I don’t really believe it. “Oh, hey. I’m supposed to ask if you’ll go with me and Mattie and Russ White to Scar this weekend.”
Rollins goes back to doodling on his shoe. “Russ White?”
“Yeah, you know the senior who should be in our grade but skipped a year in elementary?” Rollins’s face is blank, and I remind myself that he wasn’t here in elementary school. “He’s the guy who drives the silver pickup you’re always drooling over.” Rollins nods in recognition.
“Apparently he’s the white knight of library fines,” I joke, and go on to explain the story of how Russ introduced himself to Mattie.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’m pretty stoked.”
Silence.
I take another bite of Pop-Tart. It tastes like sand.
“So . . . anything new with you?” Rollins asks, his voice strained. He’s clearly trying to move past this weirdness between us.
I search for something to talk about. Then I realize I haven’t even told Rollins about my aunt Lydia randomly showing up on our doorstep. Under normal circumstances, Rollins would have been the first person I called.
“Yeah, actually,” I say. “You’ll never guess who showed up Friday night after—after you left.”
Rollins looks uncomfortable at the reference to his abrupt departure. “Who?”
“My aunt Lydia, who I’ve never met before. I guess she ran away to California when she was a teenager and never came back. Until now. Anyway, she turned up on our doorstep with a suitcase.”
“Crazy,” Rollins says. “What does she want?”
“She claims she just wants to get to know her family, but I think that’s just a cover story. She could have come back at any time, right? Besides, some really weird stuff has been happening since she got here.”
Rollins twirls his Sharpie, looking interested. I’m relieved that Lydia’s sudden appearance has given us something neutral to talk about. “What weird stuff?”
“Well, think about it. I got into that accident on Thursday night. What if she had something to do with it? She could have gotten here on Thursday and stayed at a hotel or something. Maybe she’s able to slide. Maybe she forced me to steal my dad’s car and drive out into the country.”
Rollins looks doubtful. “But why ? What would be her motivation?”
“That’s the kicker. My dad said she got into a huge fight with my mom when they were in high school. She vowed to destroy everything my mom ever loved. Hence the car accident. She’s trying to kill me.”
Rollins clears his throat. “If she actually slid into you, wouldn’t she need something with your emotional imprint on it? She would’ve needed it before she even got to your house, since someone slid into you the night before, right?”
Stupid, rational Rollins.
“Well, what about this? Last night I woke up to a crashing noise. When I went downstairs, I found my dad throwing pictures everywhere. He busted his own wedding portrait. He was totally out of it, like someone else was controlling his actions. When he finally realized where he was, Lydia showed up. And she was wearing his bathrobe .”
The dubious expression on Rollins’s face gives way to thoughtfulness. “That is a pretty big coincidence.”
“Right? If she slid into him, she was forcing him to break wedding pictures of his dead wife. Pretty sick.”
“I don’t know. It still seems like a stretch. Saying you’ll destroy everything someone loves is pretty melodramatic, like something you’d say during a fight and then forget five minutes later. I seriously doubt she’s trying to wreck your family. I bet Lydia just realized how lonely she was and decided to come back and meet her nieces.”
I crumple up the wrapper from my Pop-Tart. “Maybe . . .” I say, even though I don’t really believe it. “Oh, hey. I’m supposed to ask if you’ll go with me and Mattie and Russ White to Scar this weekend.”
Rollins goes back to doodling on his shoe. “Russ White?”
“Yeah, you know the senior who should be in our grade but skipped a year in elementary?” Rollins’s face is blank, and I remind myself that he wasn’t here in elementary school. “He’s the guy who drives the silver pickup you’re always drooling over.” Rollins nods in recognition.
“Apparently he’s the white knight of library fines,” I joke, and go on to explain the story of how Russ introduced himself to Mattie.
Similar Books
