Read Online Who I Kissed by Janet Gurtler - Free Book Online Page B

he says.
    I turn and focus on my desk top again.
    “Sam can get as close to me as she wants,” Casper continues, and I wish he would have stopped a sentence ago. His voice carries across the room.
    Kaitlin coughs once into her hand. It sounds very much like she coughed out the word “killer.” There’s a few low laughs but also a couple of dirty looks thrown her way.
    A girl beside me smiles at me with sadness in her eyes. It’s supportive and makes me want to cry. Fortunately, Mr. Duffield finally moves away from his desk and starts a lecture about George Orwell.
    ***
    After school, I make an emergency phone call to Bob, feeling overwhelmed and not sure I can face another day with everyone staring at me and making such nasty comments. He talks me down and goes over the good things I accomplished. I don’t really believe him when he tells me I’m brave and resilient, but I like when he tells me he’s proud of me. I hang up feeling somewhat stronger.
    That night Dad and I sit down to eat a roast he made in the crockpot. “Your aunt is coming for a visit. Hopefully a short one,” he says between bites. It’s tough and chewy, but at least he’s actually made an effort to cook something that didn’t come frozen in a box. Since the accident I haven’t been in the mood to cook. Or eat. My clothes are baggy. When I do eat, all I can manage is canned soup or scrambled eggs with plain toast. I threw out the peanut butter jar.
    I stop gnawing on the meat and put down my fork. “Really?”
    “I can’t stop her from coming. God knows I’ve tried.”
    I grab a snap pea and bite off the end of it, and then I pick up my glass of milk. I’m overwhelmed by the emptiness in my middle that food won’t fill. I wish she were already here. “It’ll be nice,” I say, pretending nonchalance, and sip my milk, watching the expression on Dad’s face over the top of the glass.
    His eyes shoot fireworks, and he makes a face. “Nice if you like to have all the oxygen in the room sucked out before you can take a breath,” he mumbles. He sounds like a belligerent little boy, and in spite of myself, I smile.
    “She’s dragging along that little mutt she carries with her all the time too.”
    He pretends to hate dogs, but Aunt Allie told me he’s been deathly afraid of them since he was a little boy. The thought of him being frightened by a tiny black Chihuahua makes me cough into my hand to hide a smile. It feels odd and out of place on my face. My cheeks crackle with the effort.
    “She doesn’t go anywhere without Fredrick,” I remind him. “He’s traveled all over the country with her.”
    “Who names a dog Fredrick? Especially one the size of a rat.” He shapes his hands into claws and lifts them into the air. “Her and that little dog too,” he says, imitating the witch on The Wizard of Oz . We probably watched that movie a hundred times when I was a kid.
    Aunt Allie brings out sides of Dad that usually lay dormant. He drops his hands and scrunches up his face. “I’m hoping she won’t stay too long, but who the hell knows?”
    “You don’t mean that.”
    He sticks his fork into the pile of lumpy potatoes on his plate. “Don’t I? If that dog pees on our floor, I’ll scalp him.” He puts his fork down, lifts his wine glass, and takes a long sip.
    “Fredrick uses a litter box, Dad,” I remind him.
    “And that’s not weird? He’s a dog, not a cat.”
    “I like Fredrick.”
    “Yeah. Well, you also like your aunt.”
    “So do you, Dad. You just hide it better.”
    He snorts. “You didn’t grow up with her running your life the way I did.”
    The twelve-year difference suggests he was kind of an “oops” baby, and it sounds like she ran his life because his parents were busy living theirs. Like most unpleasant things in his life, he deals but chooses not to talk about it. “Anyhow, she’s been calling and calling, and I couldn’t put her off any longer. She’s arriving tomorrow. Of course, now I