Part 27 (2/2)

I want to ask how she thinks he can do that. Time travel? Amy blinks and looks as if she's about to start crying. I struggle to keep my emotions under control, pretend my whole world hasn't s.h.i.+fted.

Soon Bob strides back to the table and stands in front of his empty chair. ”It's all true,” he says to his wife. ”She was pregnant when she left me. She says she'll submit to testing. But I don't have to, do I? Look at her.” He lifts his hand and finally looks at me, really looks at me. ”How could Mary do this to me?”

I know what you mean, I think. It's hard to tell by his tone if he'd be happier if he had never known. Is he sad? p.i.s.sed off? Impossible to read.

Camille stands and wraps her arms around him, her head resting on his shoulder. He puts his chin on her head and closes his eyes.

Under the table, Adam puts his hand on my knee and squeezes. I close my eyes, pretending it's all okay, that this is under my control.

”Well, this is really nice for the two of you,” Amy blurts out.

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J a n e t G u r t l e r ”That you have each other to lean on and all. But what about Morgan? How do you think she feels?”

I open my eyes and see a tear roll down her cheek. My own eyes are scratchy with the ones I'm holding in.

She glares at Bob. ”She drove all this way to find a big mess.”

She's quivering with anger on my behalf.

”It's okay, Amy,” I tell her and swallow again and again over a new lump increasing in size in my throat.

”No. She's right.” Bob lets go of Camille and they sit. He leans on his elbows and stares across the table, studying my face. I want to look away from him, but it's pointless. I can't. We stare at each other in a deep intimate way, and a s.h.i.+ver runs down my back.

”Where do we go from here?” he asks.

A waitress walks close to us, but she pauses. She must pick up the tension in the air because she turns and wanders in the direction of another table.

”Are you a nice person?” I ask softly. It's a stupid question, but I want to know. I want to know so badly it scares me. Because he still has the power to hurt me. He is the one calling the shots here. I'm just a kid with my heart on my sleeve.

”Not always,” he answers with a small smile. He picks up his tea and takes a sip and then goes on. ”I'm kind of a workaholic and I have a temper. And I go running at inappropriate times.” The hint of a smile reappears at the corner of his lips but disappears quickly.

”What about you?”

”There's a viral video of me dancing in my underwear online,” I tell him.

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1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e ”But the video wasn't her fault. Her friend posted it. Ex- friend.”

Amy sighs. ”And at least Morgan's a good dancer.”

I squirm, and Adam reaches over and puts his hand over her mouth. She makes strangled sounds, and for the first time since I've ever thought about the video, I laugh. Adam laughs too.

Camille's eyes open wider and Bob watches me. ”Nothing like jumping right into the rebellious years,” he says. I can tell he wants to ask more, but he doesn't.

”No. You missed those too,” Amy tells him with a sniffle. ”They say the worst years for teen girls' parents are between thirteen and sixteen. After that, they become human again.”

Bob and Camille exchange a glance, and then Bob catches my eye and we both smile. Amy is a gift.

”Morgan's really popular online you know. She'll have five thou- sand Twitter followers by the end of summer,” she adds.

We all look at her. It sounds silly in this context, but I love her for it.

”She's quite the tweeter,” Adam says.

”I don't even like Twitter,” Bob says.

I realize I'm glad for that. Last thing I need is a parent monitor- ing me online after this long. Parent? I realize I thought of him as a parent and it makes me want to cry again.

”So.” Bob turns back to me. ”How are you feeling about all this?” Camille reaches for his hand on the table, but Bob pulls away, focused on me. There's a tiny surge of satisfaction in my belly at her hurt expression and I frown at my reaction. I reach for my purse and dig for my ChapStick.

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sixteenthings.indd 187 9/9/13 2:21 PM.

J a n e t G u r t l e r ”I don't know,” I tell him as I take the cap off.

He watches me. ”Why did you come all this way to see me?” he asks softly.

I jab my ChapStick at my lips, stab at them. I glance at Adam and Amy, feel a blush in my cheeks.

”Tone, Bob,” Camille says, and he glances sideways at her and then back to me.

”You must have been angry,” he says in a quieter voice. ”Thinking I abandoned you,” he prompts, a trace of impatience in his voice. I guess he's not used to dealing with teenagers.

I shrug again. He's right. I must be angry, but it's impossible to feel much of anything.

”Of course she's angry. All this time she thought you ditched her as a baby,” Amy pipes in. ”She didn't know you had no idea she existed. This is a huge turn of events. Huge.”

”Amy.” I glance at her. ”Don't speak for me, okay?” I say softly.

Her bottom lip juts out, but other people's words don't belong in my mouth. Not now. Not again.

”I only want to help,” she says.

”I know.” She's being amazing, but I need to do this on my own.

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