one entry that showed up over and over again that I couldnât get: âBC â Wtrfrnt.â Andy usually just left out the vowels in the words, so the last part was pretty easy to figure out. Wtrfrnt = Waterfront. I guessed sheâd been meeting somebody at one of those fancy restaurants overlooking the harbor.
Boy, did that make me mad. Iâm eating Mr. Noodles for lunch every day while sheâs out dining like a queen. Arenât mothers supposed to look after their children first?
Even while I was mad, though, I knew something was wrong with this picture. I just couldnât see it: Andy eating out and not even bringing me back a doggie bag. Maybe this wasnât about work either. Maybe this was a boyfriend. I knew sheâd had a few over the years, but not because sheâd ever admit it to me, thatâs for sure. Iâd catch some guy putting his arm around her, or some girlfriend of hers would let slip about Andyâs âbig date,â and Andy would never talk to her again. If she was out having some romantic meal with some new love (barf), she wouldnât bring me back a doggie bag, because she wouldnât want me to know about it.
Made sense.
But who was the guy this time?
B.C.
Bâ¦Câ¦
Bâ¦
Câ¦
I knew someone with those initials. I was sure of it. I ran through all the guysâ names I could think of that started with B.
Bill. Blair. Brendan. Ben. Bert. Bart.
Byron.
Byron Cuvelier.
B.C.
chapter
twenty
Statutory rape
Former charge for sex with a minor
I hadnât slept in, like, thirty-six hours. I was so wired I didnât think Iâd ever sleep again, but that night I did. I just kind of passed out at the kitchen table. Maybe thatâs why I had such a weird dream.
Byron was my father, and I had a stump for my hand too, and we were living in this sort of tent thing that we had to keep moving all the time. Kendall lived with us too, I think, or he was around, anyway. He gave me this special skateboard that only had three wheels. I could do these amazing moves on it, but only because I was missing a hand. Andy was in the dream too, sort of. You know what dreams are like. I could hear her voice or smell her smoke or talk to her on the phone, but I could never actually see her. One time, I even had to wait outside the bathroom while she used it (our tent had a phone and bathroom, quite the camping experience), but somehow she slipped out without me noticing.
The whole dream was like that. I wanted to see herâIâd go looking for her, Iâd run after the sound of her voiceâbut I didnât want to see her too. I knew sheâd take away the skateboard, but that wasnât what I was really afraid of.
I was scared she was going to be mad at me when she found out Byron was my father.
As if it was my fault.
It sounds completely stupid now, but when I was dreaming, it was like it was really happening. I was freaked when I woke up. I could barely catch my breath.
I looked around the kitchen for a long time, just telling myself it wasnât real. That helped for a while, until I realized that reality was even worse than any dumb thing I could dream up.
I thought about Byron and Andy having their little secret meetings at the waterfront. What were they thinking? Like they wouldnât stick out there! Andy, in her Salvation Army specials, and the aging chick magnet trying to blend in with all those people in expensive business suits. If they wanted to keep their secret, why would they meet there?
Because they were so in love they couldnât think clearly.
Oh, bleh.
Kek.
Ack. Ack. Ack.
Gag.
I practically barfed. It sort of made sense. I knew Andy acted like she hated Byron and wanted to get rid of him, but you know how weird people can be when they like someone.
I couldnât shake the idea that Byron was Andyâs boyfriend, and all those late-night arguments were just loversâ spats. It was so gross
Boy, did that make me mad. Iâm eating Mr. Noodles for lunch every day while sheâs out dining like a queen. Arenât mothers supposed to look after their children first?
Even while I was mad, though, I knew something was wrong with this picture. I just couldnât see it: Andy eating out and not even bringing me back a doggie bag. Maybe this wasnât about work either. Maybe this was a boyfriend. I knew sheâd had a few over the years, but not because sheâd ever admit it to me, thatâs for sure. Iâd catch some guy putting his arm around her, or some girlfriend of hers would let slip about Andyâs âbig date,â and Andy would never talk to her again. If she was out having some romantic meal with some new love (barf), she wouldnât bring me back a doggie bag, because she wouldnât want me to know about it.
Made sense.
But who was the guy this time?
B.C.
Bâ¦Câ¦
Bâ¦
Câ¦
I knew someone with those initials. I was sure of it. I ran through all the guysâ names I could think of that started with B.
Bill. Blair. Brendan. Ben. Bert. Bart.
Byron.
Byron Cuvelier.
B.C.
chapter
twenty
Statutory rape
Former charge for sex with a minor
I hadnât slept in, like, thirty-six hours. I was so wired I didnât think Iâd ever sleep again, but that night I did. I just kind of passed out at the kitchen table. Maybe thatâs why I had such a weird dream.
Byron was my father, and I had a stump for my hand too, and we were living in this sort of tent thing that we had to keep moving all the time. Kendall lived with us too, I think, or he was around, anyway. He gave me this special skateboard that only had three wheels. I could do these amazing moves on it, but only because I was missing a hand. Andy was in the dream too, sort of. You know what dreams are like. I could hear her voice or smell her smoke or talk to her on the phone, but I could never actually see her. One time, I even had to wait outside the bathroom while she used it (our tent had a phone and bathroom, quite the camping experience), but somehow she slipped out without me noticing.
The whole dream was like that. I wanted to see herâIâd go looking for her, Iâd run after the sound of her voiceâbut I didnât want to see her too. I knew sheâd take away the skateboard, but that wasnât what I was really afraid of.
I was scared she was going to be mad at me when she found out Byron was my father.
As if it was my fault.
It sounds completely stupid now, but when I was dreaming, it was like it was really happening. I was freaked when I woke up. I could barely catch my breath.
I looked around the kitchen for a long time, just telling myself it wasnât real. That helped for a while, until I realized that reality was even worse than any dumb thing I could dream up.
I thought about Byron and Andy having their little secret meetings at the waterfront. What were they thinking? Like they wouldnât stick out there! Andy, in her Salvation Army specials, and the aging chick magnet trying to blend in with all those people in expensive business suits. If they wanted to keep their secret, why would they meet there?
Because they were so in love they couldnât think clearly.
Oh, bleh.
Kek.
Ack. Ack. Ack.
Gag.
I practically barfed. It sort of made sense. I knew Andy acted like she hated Byron and wanted to get rid of him, but you know how weird people can be when they like someone.
I couldnât shake the idea that Byron was Andyâs boyfriend, and all those late-night arguments were just loversâ spats. It was so gross
Similar Books
