Read Online Kiss and Tell 3 by Faith Winslow - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Faith Winslow
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they’d hear was what I had to say about Mr. Swift, and anything about Dessert Oasis would fade away to nothing, like a mirage dissolving in daylight.
Sure, I’d still tell them about Dessert Oasis, but I knew they really wouldn’t care about it, and I tried not to think about that too much as I went over the cover up story a few more times.
Traffic had me hung up and out until about 7, and Mom and Dad’s cars were both already in the driveway when I got home. I parked my car on the street and went to the house, psyching myself up for my performance. I forced a big grin on my face. After all, everything I had to tell them was good news—a potential job at Dessert Oasis and a shadowing arrangement with Mr. Swift—and I should be happy about it.
I got to the back door and opened it. As soon as I looked in, I saw Mom sitting at the kitchen table. She looked over at me with a cold, hard look on her face. Dad was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and main hallway. I couldn’t see his entire body, but I could see that he was bent over, with his head down and his hands resting against his knees.
As quickly as Mom turned to look at me she turned away and shook her head violently way, the kind a crazy person would do in a haunted house movie.
“What’s going on here?” I asked as I stepped into the kitchen.
As soon as I made it past the doorframe, the rest of the scene unfolded, and it became unnecessary for anyone to answer my question.
Dad stared at his feet, and Mom buried her head in her hands. But I couldn’t care less about what either of them were doing. I was more concerned with the third person in the room, the person sitting across from Mom at the table.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I had to do the right thing, Kirby,” he said. “I had to tell them.”
“And thank you for doing that, London,” Dad said, stepping out from the doorway. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, maybe you should go home now. Judy and I have a lot to talk about with Kirby.”
I couldn’t speak. My jaw had dropped so far that it would have taken me ages to pick it up. What the hell was going on here?
“Yes, London, thank you so much,” Mom said, lifting her head up from her hands. Her eye makeup was smeared, but I couldn’t tell whether it was from friction or tears. “But now we need to talk to Kirby.”
Both of my parents looked at me, but my eyes stayed locked on London. He quickly, covertly flashed that crooked grin again—the one I really, really hated.
I hated it even more now.
Chapter 16
“Is it true, Kirby?”
“Tell me this is some type of joke.”
“Did what London said happened really happen?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”
“You and Mr. Swift?”
“Please tell me London made it up.”
“He’s in his 50s!”
“Please tell me London is crazy.”
“You didn’t really do anything with him, did you?”
“Tell me I’m drunk.”
“Why would London say something like that if it isn’t true?”
“Tell me I’m dreaming.”
“Did you guys have a fight? Did he make this up to get back at you?”
“This is too much. I can’t take it.”
If you’ll notice, none of these statements are paired up with a speaker. That’s because they all—along with others—came at me so quickly that I couldn’t identify who said what or when they said it. The above is a mix of what Mom, Dad, and I said after London left out house, but it’s only a small sample of our entire conversation. There were so many other questions, comments, observations, and accusations tossed around that, believe you me, there’s no way I could have ever kept account of it.
I was bombarded by everything that Mom and Dad had to say, but I was still in shock over something else… Why did London do what he did? Why did he tell my parents? He had nothing to gain from it, and actually stood to lose. Why would he do harm us both like this?
As Mom and Dad kept talking, asking, and
Sure, I’d still tell them about Dessert Oasis, but I knew they really wouldn’t care about it, and I tried not to think about that too much as I went over the cover up story a few more times.
Traffic had me hung up and out until about 7, and Mom and Dad’s cars were both already in the driveway when I got home. I parked my car on the street and went to the house, psyching myself up for my performance. I forced a big grin on my face. After all, everything I had to tell them was good news—a potential job at Dessert Oasis and a shadowing arrangement with Mr. Swift—and I should be happy about it.
I got to the back door and opened it. As soon as I looked in, I saw Mom sitting at the kitchen table. She looked over at me with a cold, hard look on her face. Dad was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and main hallway. I couldn’t see his entire body, but I could see that he was bent over, with his head down and his hands resting against his knees.
As quickly as Mom turned to look at me she turned away and shook her head violently way, the kind a crazy person would do in a haunted house movie.
“What’s going on here?” I asked as I stepped into the kitchen.
As soon as I made it past the doorframe, the rest of the scene unfolded, and it became unnecessary for anyone to answer my question.
Dad stared at his feet, and Mom buried her head in her hands. But I couldn’t care less about what either of them were doing. I was more concerned with the third person in the room, the person sitting across from Mom at the table.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I had to do the right thing, Kirby,” he said. “I had to tell them.”
“And thank you for doing that, London,” Dad said, stepping out from the doorway. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, maybe you should go home now. Judy and I have a lot to talk about with Kirby.”
I couldn’t speak. My jaw had dropped so far that it would have taken me ages to pick it up. What the hell was going on here?
“Yes, London, thank you so much,” Mom said, lifting her head up from her hands. Her eye makeup was smeared, but I couldn’t tell whether it was from friction or tears. “But now we need to talk to Kirby.”
Both of my parents looked at me, but my eyes stayed locked on London. He quickly, covertly flashed that crooked grin again—the one I really, really hated.
I hated it even more now.
Chapter 16
“Is it true, Kirby?”
“Tell me this is some type of joke.”
“Did what London said happened really happen?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”
“You and Mr. Swift?”
“Please tell me London made it up.”
“He’s in his 50s!”
“Please tell me London is crazy.”
“You didn’t really do anything with him, did you?”
“Tell me I’m drunk.”
“Why would London say something like that if it isn’t true?”
“Tell me I’m dreaming.”
“Did you guys have a fight? Did he make this up to get back at you?”
“This is too much. I can’t take it.”
If you’ll notice, none of these statements are paired up with a speaker. That’s because they all—along with others—came at me so quickly that I couldn’t identify who said what or when they said it. The above is a mix of what Mom, Dad, and I said after London left out house, but it’s only a small sample of our entire conversation. There were so many other questions, comments, observations, and accusations tossed around that, believe you me, there’s no way I could have ever kept account of it.
I was bombarded by everything that Mom and Dad had to say, but I was still in shock over something else… Why did London do what he did? Why did he tell my parents? He had nothing to gain from it, and actually stood to lose. Why would he do harm us both like this?
As Mom and Dad kept talking, asking, and