Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“Mrs. Michaelson asked you a question.”
I jerk upright. “Leka, you’re home,” I say. I pat my face, wondering if my feelings are written all over my face.
He cocks his head and looks at me curiously. “I am. What’s this about a dance?”
“Nothing.” Damn Mrs. M and her big mouth. I throw my babysitter a glare. She ignores me, much as I ignored her all night.
“Assumption is hosting a sweetheart dance for all the junior high kids. That’s the one where the girl asks the boy to dance.” She tucks her knitting gear away. “Elizabeth missed it last year because she forgot to sign the conduct agreement.”
I didn’t forget. I threw the piece of paper in the trash because I wasn’t interested in any school dance. I’m still not.
Leka draws a hand across his chin. There’s a rough stubble there. “I didn’t know about this. Aren’t you a little young for dancing with boys?”
I don’t pay attention to his question because I’m too caught up in the state of his hair. It’s wet and slicked against his perfect skull. My stomach tightens. That means whatever work he did was messy.
“Of course, she’s not. She’s a teenager. Many girls start dating at this age. It’s perfectly natural.” She clucks her tongue again. “Leka, don’t be so strict or she’ll rebel.” I shake my head at him, but Leka’s frowning now. Mrs. M is a damn busybody. “You’ll need to sign the conduct contract and get it in soon or you won’t be able to attend,” she continues.
I grab her knitting bag and carry it to the front door so she gets the hint. “I’m not going, so it doesn’t matter.”
“You can go if you want,” Leka says.
“I don’t want.” I know it’s not the time to tell Leka about how I feel. He’ll say I’m too young. Or worse, that my feelings aren’t real. No, the worse would be for him to pat my head and say that he’s my brother and that’s all he’ll ever be.
“She should go,” Mrs. M pipes up. “It’d be good for her. I’ll take her dress shopping this weekend if you’re not available.”
“I’m not going,” I insist.
“I’ll let you know, Mrs. Michaelson,” Leka says and holds the door open. He grabs the bag from my grasp and walks Mrs. M down the hall.
She keeps on chattering about the dance. “You do that, dear. It would be good for Elizabeth. She doesn’t have enough friends. It’s not healthy for her to be by herself.”
I can’t make out Leka’s words. He’s murmuring too low—intentionally, I think.
“Yes, fourteen’s a perfect age for this. It’s definitely not too young.”
I decide I don’t need to hear more of this and go inside. I make my way to the kitchen and pull out the makings for a sandwich. Leka’s often hungry when he gets home from work. He doesn’t eat at Marjory’s. I used to pretend it was because Mary turned his stomach, but now I think it’s more that he doesn’t much like the work he does there.
“So, you have a school dance,” Leka says as he enters the kitchen. “What else haven’t you shared with me?”
Oh, the usual. The fact that I have stirrings inside of me that’d make him cringe and blush and run away. “Nothing.” At his look of disbelief, I sigh. “Hold on.”
I fetch my backpack and pull out a sheaf of papers and toss them on the table. Leka takes a seat, and with a sandwich in one hand, he starts leafing through the pile of parental forms. One for a field trip to a gum factory. Another for a visit to the National Museum of History. There were a couple of school mixers: one for Assumption’s homecoming last fall and another for the end of the term.
He reads each one and then lays them down until there’s a stack of about ten of them. He looks at his sandwich and sets that down, too. “Take a seat, Bitsy.”
Heart heavy, I drop into the chair with a thud.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this stuff?”
“Because none of it matters.”
His fingers curl and his jaw tightens in a sure sign that he’s frustrated and trying to control it. “This is the fun school shit and you’re missing it. Why?”
“It’s not fun, Leka. That’s the thing. This stuff is either boring or terrifying.” I pull out the museum form. “I looked it up. This place is full of animals that are dead and stuffed, but they’re behind glass. You can get as good of a picture of them on the internet, and there’s more information there, too.” I grab the mixer for homecoming. “This one is for Assumption’s football game during which four students got caught smoking a joint in the bathroom and after the game, Misty Price was found on the bus giving consolation prizes with her mouth.”