Read Online My Beating Teenage Heart by C. K. Kelly Martin - Free Book Online

guitar more often again, teaching myself this time.
    Ty, Rory and I still hang out too. Big Red’s father is a recovering borderline psycho soccer dad who used to freak out whenever Rory screwed up and didn’t play exactly like the next Ronaldo or Messi. Ty’s parents are the kind who are happy as long as he’s happy, which is pretty close to what my parents were like for the last seven years, until this past Friday.
    “You know Mr. Cirelli asked me about you when I saw him in the parking lot this morning,” Ty says.
    “What did you tell him?” I don’t want people asking about me or trying to talk to me about Skylar. It’s pointless. None of that is going to bring her back.
    My door swings open as Ty starts to answer. If there was a knock, I didn’t hear it, and my dad eyeballs me on the phone and points, in surprise, to my hand. “The kitchen tap’s busted,” I tell him. “The water temperature—boiling-hot water started gushing out of it.”
    “You okay?” Dad asks with a concerned look.
    “Yeah, yeah, it messed up my hand a little but I’m all right.” Ty’s stopped talking and is waiting for me to finish with Dad. “You should get it checked out before somebody burns their arm off.” I say it like I’m annoyed by the ordeal, the way I figure I would feel if I hadn’t done this to myself. “Is it okay if I go out with Ty for a while?” I tack on.
    I don’t want my mom or Lily making a fuss about my hand. Besides, I think I need to get out. I’m almost as pathetic as Moose, wandering aimlessly from room to room.
    “Sure,” Dad tells me. “Are you positive you’re okay?”
    “I’m okay.” I switch my attention to Ty. “I’m coming to pick you up [o pght=, all right?”
    I move into the hall, staying on the phone with him as protection against my mom and aunt wanting to examine my hand. I don’t run into either of them on my way out—maybe Lily’s not home yet—and when I hang up and climb into my car reality shifts sideways.
    It’s like stepping into a cocoon. The outside world disappears. I didn’t need to burn my hand to overthrow reality, all I had to do was get into my car.
    I know the feeling won’t last, that there’ll be another BAM right around the corner, but I’ll take what I can get. The Advil’s dulled the pain in my hand but not killed it. I loosen my left hand’s grip on the steering wheel and curse myself for being an idiot. A few scattered raindrops tap my windshield as I drive. One of the neighbors from down the road is out cycling with his son who’s a couple years older than Skylar. They’re pedaling fast, probably trying to get home before the sky really opens up.
    Ty’s house is only about a mile away so I’m there in no time and text him from outside. If I go to the door his parents will only crowd around asking how I am in sad voices. While I’m waiting on him, I text Jules too and tell her I’m with Ty. Then I turn off the phone so no one will bother me.
    A minute later Ty trudges out the front door with the same expression on his face that he had at Skylar’s funeral. It makes me wish I’d driven past his place and kept right on going.
    “If you don’t quit looking at me like that I’m going home,” I tell him as he gets in.
    Ty’s frown sinks deeper into his skin but he shakes his head to snap out of it. “Sorry, man. I suck at this. But hey, look, don’t go home. We’ll do something … I don’t know …” He stares out the passenger window and racks his brain. “Maybe … drive to that place with the awesome peppercorn burgers we found on the way to the Red Wings game. Remember that?” His eyes shoot over to my bandaged hand. “Can you drive like that?”
    “Yeah—with my right hand,” I joke. “And a morphine drip for the pain.”
    I didn’t think I was hungry but my stomach grumbles at the memory of that spicy-hot peppercorn burger, hands down the best hamburger I’ve ever tasted. Over a year ago Ty’s dad scored