Part 21 (2/2)

”I didn't want to . . . I really didn't mean to . . .” I gabbled. I wanted to say something that would fix this, that would a.s.sure the Fishers that all I had been trying to do was be a good friend to Amelia. But I couldn't seem to find the right words to explain this. It was especially hard sitting there in their gloomy gray kitchen, with Mrs. Fisher spitting-mad and Mr. Fisher so quiet and watchful.

Mrs. Fisher seemed to notice her husband's silence for the first time. She turned on him. ”Don't you have anything you would like to say to Miranda?”

Mr. Fisher cleared his throat. ”Perhaps it would be best if we found alternate child care for Amelia for the remainder of the summer.”

I had been expecting this ever since Mrs. Fisher first led me back to the kitchen. Even so, hearing it said aloud-I was being fired-made my insides shrivel up. I'd been fired from my very first job. Epic fail.

I nodded and stood up, noticing that my legs somehow felt both shaky and wooden. I waited for the Fishers to say something further, but Mrs. Fisher seemed to have run out of steam-she stared down at the table, her arms still crossed, as though she couldn't bear to look up at me-and Mr. Fisher had returned to his mute, contemplative posture. When it became clear that they weren't going to say anything else, I turned and headed down the hallway, happy to see that despite the woodenness and shakiness, my legs were still capable of carrying me away.

When I got to the front door, I heard a noise from upstairs. I looked up, and there, sitting on the top stair, was Amelia. She looked very small and very sad, sitting hunched over, with her arms wrapped around her legs. I raised a hand in a halfhearted wave. Amelia waved back.

And then I turned away, opened the front door, and left.

Chapter Twenty-five.

It wasn't that I was avoiding Dex. It was just that the first time he called, I was biking back from the Fishers' house, still reeling from having been fired. I looked at the caller ID, saw Dex's name, and decided that while of course I was going to talk to him-eventually-I wanted to be prepared and, if at all possible, somewhat poised when that conversation did happen. I stuck my phone back in my pocket and kept on biking, the ocean breeze drying the tears on my cheeks.

The second time Dex called, later that afternoon, I was sitting at the kitchen table in the beach house. I was trying to study for my driving test the next day, but was really just staring into s.p.a.ce, contemplating everything in my life that had gone wrong over the past twenty-four hours and the very real possibility that it was going to get even worse tomorrow if I failed the exam. Which I was pretty sure was going to happen. This time when my phone rang, I was tempted to pick it up-my heart gave a small leap of excitement when I saw who was calling-but I hesitated, still unsure of what I should say to him.

Dex stopped calling after that, and instead began texting me.

I'm sorry, the first text read. Can we talk?

The second, which arrived five minutes later, read, Please stop ignoring me . . .

Then, a little while later, If I don't talk to you, good luck tomorrow.

”Don't you think you're being a little childish?” Hannah asked, reading over my shoulder. I jumped. I hadn't even heard her come into the kitchen.

”Are you training to be a ninja or something?” I asked, pressing one hand over my heart, willing it to slow back down to a normal rate.

”You have to talk to him eventually,” Hannah said, ignoring my ninja crack.

”I know,” I muttered. ”I will.”

”When?”

”When I can think of something to say. Besides, I have my driving test tomorrow. I need to stay focused on that. I'll talk to him after it's over.”

”You're not seriously worried about your driving test, are you? I don't know anyone who's failed,” Hannah said.

”Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I asked.

”Yes. Doesn't it?” Hannah asked.

”Not even a little bit,” I said.

Hannah went to the refrigerator, opened the door, and stared in. Then, somewhat sadly, she closed the door.

”What's wrong?” I asked.

”I'm hungry,” Hannah said.

”So eat something.”

”Can't. I have a modeling job tomorrow,” Hannah said.

”Another casting call?” I asked.

”No, I've already been hired! Didn't I tell you? Jojo, the photographer I worked with for the catalogue shoot, got me the job. It's for an advertising campaign for UFO Computers,” Hannah said.

”Isn't that a national store?” I asked.

My stepsister nodded happily. ”It's a really big deal that I was chosen. That's why I don't want to eat anything and end up with a tummy bulge.”

”That's great about the job, but you can't go the whole day without eating,” I said. It was a horrifying prospect. I get weak if I go more than three waking hours without eating.

”I'll have a salad or something for dinner,” Hannah said vaguely. She got herself a gla.s.s of water and then sat down at the table across from me. Without asking permission, she picked up my phone and began scrolling through the messages Dex had sent me.

”Hey!” I said. ”Those are private!”

Hannah ignored me. ”If you're not going to talk to him, you have to at least text him back,” she said bossily. ”Hmm. What should you say? I know!” She began to type into my phone.

”Stop!” I said indignantly. I tried to grab the phone out of Hannah's hands, but she turned one shoulder away, deftly moving out of my reach. ”What are you saying?”

”Here, see for yourself.” Hannah handed me the phone.

Tx for the good luck! Let's meet up after my test. Beach at 2?

”You didn't send it, did you?” I asked.

”Not yet. Why, is there something you want to add?”

”Yes. I want to delete everything after good luck, including the exclamation point,” I said. ”And instead put in that I'll call him after my test is over. If I pa.s.s. If I fail, I'm going to spend the rest of my life hiding in shame.”

Hannah grabbed the phone back, before I could type it myself. ”I'll do it,” she said. But instead of deleting what I'd asked her to, she instead hit a few b.u.t.tons, and the phone let out a familiar chirp.

I gaped at her. ”Did you just send your message?”

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