Part 30 (1/2)

”We have to go, Jimmy,” he says, nodding at me. ”I'll come back next week, yeah? I'll bring the vermillion. I'm sure they'll have it in stock by then.”

”Sounds good, buddy,” Jimmy acknowledges with a tired smile and a faraway look in his clear green eyes. ”Thanks a lot.”

”It was really nice to meet you, Jimmy,” I say. Holy and Moly are both cuddled on my lap, so I carefully get up, cradling them in my arms. ”Thanks for having me.”

”Anytime, buddy. I can take those guys off you.”

”Oh, no, I got them. I can put them back in their cage,” I offer, already walking toward the small alcove next to the dusty fireplace.

I deposit the two ferrets in their little sling in the cage, and they immediately wind themselves around each other, and close their eyes. The picture of sleepy contentment after a hard day of play. Who knew ferrets were such cool pets? And they only smell a little.

We say our goodbyes to Jimmy after Dean promises to bring me back. When we're back in the Pontiac, and he fires up the powerful engine, I turn to him with a genuine smile.

”Your uncle is pretty awesome. Thanks for letting me come.”

Dean returns my smile, his light-filled eyes gleaming in the dark. ”Anytime.”

I feel flushed with contentment, pleased with Dean and how my evening turned out. It's kind of crazy how much time we've been spending together lately, but I'm really enjoying his company. Sure, he's not the easiest person to get to know, but I kinda like that about him.

Still smiling, I text Heather to make sure she's okay. She immediately texts me back, letting me know she's safe and sound at home-and adds about fifty smiley faces. Guess her night went well. I'm sure she'll tell me all about it tomorrow.

I fall asleep on the ride back to my house, and the next thing I know, we're pulling up in front of my house. I stretch luxuriously in my seat, raising my arms above my head so that they touch the ceiling of the car. Mid-stretch, I glance over at Dean to find him watching me with an unreadable expression on his face. Self-conscious-my yawn-y faces are not cute-I quickly lower my arms, and reach for the door handle.

”Thanks, Dean. I'll see you Monday-and don't forget, we have our English presentation!”

”Looking forward to it.” Was that sarcasm? So hard to tell with him. He starts to get out. ”I'll walk you to your door.”

”No, that's okay,” I say, having just spotted my mom's car in the driveway. ”My mom's home. Thanks, though.”

I slip out of the car without waiting for a response, and hurry down the path to my front porch. It's after two, and I wonder if Mom will be upset that I'm home so late? What's she doing home, anyway?

She's in the kitchen, sitting at the table with her laptop in front of her. She looks up when I come skidding in, already making excuses.

”I know it's late...” I begin. ”I was just with a friend, visiting his uncle, who lives in Sunlit City-”

But Mom holds up a hand in halting gesture. ”I thought about being mad,” she says with a shrug. ”But then I realized-you're almost eighteen, and in a few months you'll be off to college. You need to start being responsible for yourself, and I have to trust that you'll make intelligent decisions. I just ask that you show some respect while you're under my roof, and not come in stumbling drunk at five in the morning.”

I gape at her as she calmly goes back to typing on her laptop. The clicking of the keyboard is the only sound in the kitchen for a couple of minutes. I'm speechless.

Finally, I find my voice. Leaning against the counter for support, I try for a mature tone. ”That seems fair,” I squeak. I clear my throat. ”Just to let you know, I don't intend on getting drunk in the foreseeable future. Or doing anything similarly stupid.”

”I know you won't,” she says in a smugly absent tone. Like she doesn't doubt I'm a good little virgin who would faint at the thought of underage drinking.

I mash my lips together. ”What are you doing home?” I ask, deciding to go with a safe topic.

”Oh, it was a slow day, and I've racked up so many hours lately, I was first on the list to be sent home.”

”What?” I say, opening my eyes in mock surprise. ”They've finally decided that eighty hours a week is too much?”

”Something about an early grave was mentioned,” Mom replies, waving a hand in the air. ”Do you want my Reuben from Frizby's? I just stuck it in the fridge.”

”No, thanks. I think I'm going to bed. Need my eight hours, you know.”

”You get that from your father.” She smiles without bitterness-even though she just mentioned my dad. ”Goodnight, Juliet.”

”Yeah, goodnight,” I mutter before heading for the stairs.

I miss my mother. I miss her even more when I see her.

Chapter 30.

Heather comes with me to Dad's, and all she can talk about is Sloane. She even tells Dad all about her, and the poor guy doesn't know what to do with the information. Mich.e.l.le takes us baby-shopping with her, and between all the baby talk and the starry-eyed first love, I'm wonderfully distracted from my own problems.

”This is so cute-oh, my G.o.d!”

Mich.e.l.le hugs a pink polka dot dress to her chest, staring heavenward as if in prayer. She holds it out again. ”Look how tiny!”

”Are you having a girl, then?” Heather asks slyly, watching my aunt's face for a clue.

”We don't want to know,” Mich.e.l.le says firmly, putting the frilly little dress back. ”Which is why I'm buying only gender-neutral colors. Aing for Mich.e.l.le. I'm totally willing to indulge her obsessions.

”I'm telling you, she is the best kisser. And I'm not just saying that 'cause she's so hot,” Heather is saying as we drift after Mich.e.l.le, who flits from rack to rack.

”So, you guys made out for a few minutes. Does that mean she is...?”

”Mm, I still don't know.” Heather c.o.c.ks her head to the side, considering. ”She won't say definitely, and I'm afraid to straight out ask her. But, dude, she actively kissed me back, so she can't be opposed to the idea.”

”Just be careful with her,” I blurt out, unable to keep the worry from my voice. ”She's into a lot of-”

”I know, Mom,” she cuts me off irritably. ”She doesn't really get high around me, okay? She knows I'm not into it. You know I know a lot of people who use-and I haven't given into temptation yet!”

I give her my most stern look. ”Make sure it stays that way, Heather Jones. If Sloane does anything to get you in trouble, you can't play with her anymore. I don't care how pretty she is.”

”Just how pretty is she?” Mich.e.l.le says, thankfully overhearing only the last part of the conversation. ”Do you have a picture?”

”I do!” Excitedly, Heather looks through her phone, which she's always holding in her hand. She scans through a few photos before she triumphantly hands it over to Mich.e.l.le.

Mich.e.l.le takes it, squinting at the screen. Her eyes widen. ”d.a.m.n,” she says in a low voice. ”She's gorgeous!”

Mich.e.l.le is so impressed that I kind of want to whip out my phone and show her Dean's picture. If she thinks Sloane's beautiful, wait 'til she sees him! But, no, that would be weird, and Mich.e.l.le would get the wrong impression. I keep my phone in my pocket, and look over Mich.e.l.le's shoulder at the many, many pictures of Sloane Suzuki. She doesn't even seem to be aware of the camera in over half of them. d.a.m.n, Heather-stalker, much?