“And when it’s over? Is it…will it be over with the two of you?”
My shrug is uncertain—that’s 100 percent honest. “I’m not sure. It depends on him and whether he’s going to play baseball. But his arm is a mess, and I really think he’s getting it out of his system.”
New tears seep from her eyes.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because we went through so much with your father. I stopped keeping track of the times he said he was ready to leave baseball. The promises made and broken. I don’t want you to put your trust in a boy you told me yourself is just like him. I don’t want you to end up with the same regrets I have.”
“I won’t.”
“You tell yourself that, but I know what it’s like to be attracted to the wrong guy. You can lose sight of common sense and a whole lot more.”
I nod because I do know what she means. Because it scares me, too. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
She nods, but her chin trembles. “Protect your heart, Josie. I couldn’t stand to see it broken again.”
Now I’m the one who’s leaking tears.
When I hug her, she hugs me back so hard I feel the bones of her wrists pressing into my back. It reminds me how strong she is—how strong she had to be when Dad left. He didn’t love me, but she always did. Whenever she had a choice, she chose me.
I push aside thoughts of Garrett and broadcasting. “So are there leftovers?” I ask. “Or did you eat all my stroganoff?” I’m not hungry, but I’m glad for whatever impulse made me ask. Mom gives me her first faint smile. “I saved you a plate. I’ll heat it up.”
She goes to the fridge, and I pull up a stool at the counter. That’s when I spot a small box with a red bow by the coffee pot.
“What’s that?”
“Take a look,” she says. The box has a white cardboard top that slowly lifts from the heavy bottom. Inside are business cards. Hundreds of business cards. I pull out one and read:
Josie Walters
AromaTher Co-President
New tears spring to my eyes. “Oh, Mom.”
“You like them?”
I nod. It’s the future we’ve been planning for more than two years. It’s not a risk like Garrett. It’s not an unknown, and it doesn’t require a fallback plan. I should never have told Garrett I’d think about broadcasting.
It scares me that I did.
It scares me even more that I don’t want to take it all back now.
Carefully, I replace the card and close the box.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Our lunch table has gotten a little more crowded over the past week. Cooper, Tucker, Jason, and Anthony keep appearing as if this is the baseball player table now. Avi is still suspicious of the new species sitting with us. Jasmine, on the other hand, keeps sneaking looks at Tucker as if she wishes he were on the menu.
Today it’s Cooper, Tucker, and Anthony, but they have enough food to feed a dozen people. It’s Southwestern Fare Friday, and our table is covered in paper trays of tortilla chips drenched in nacho cheese and sprinkled with slices of green jalapeños. My eyes watered at the smell, but the guys have nearly downed four trays along with beef tacos and chicken burritos. It’s like watching an episode of National Geographic where the lions take down an antelope.
Mai and I have our Contraband Quesadilla, which is what we call the cheese-filled tortilla, because her mom would shudder to see Mai eating cheese so orange it probably glows in the dark. Mai is also eating her packed lunch so that the healthy balances out the unhealthy.
“Try this,” Mai says, handing Anthony one of her green veggie sticks.
“That looks gross,” Cooper says as he tears open a packet of sugar and pours it into his mouth.
I gag. “You did not just do that.”
“Where did you even get that?” Jasmine asks.
“I stole it from the Bagel Barn.”
“This doesn’t look like a French fry.” Anthony sniffs at the stick.
“You’re going to be arrested,” Mai tells Cooper.
“And it’s the wrong color,” Anthony adds.
“If you get busted, I’ll bring you a bird in prison,” Tucker offers.
“Why would you bring him a bird?” I ask.
Tucker chews through a taco. “It’s from a movie. Birdman of Alcatraz.”
“Dude!” Cooper fluffs his chin hair. “That movie was awesome.”
Anthony finishes chewing. “It wasn’t horrible.”
“Now you can have an orange one,” Mai says. “They’re better.”
Mai is expanding Anthony’s world, or so she tells him. I think she’s trying to pawn off the veggie sticks.
Tucker and Cooper are still going on about the movie. I’m getting good at multiple conversations.
“The scene where he tells the bird to leave?” Tucker begins. “You remember that?” He throws a hand over his heart and I think he’s trying to impersonate an actor. Or maybe a statue. Then he starts talking in a gangster voice. “You don’t wanna be a jailbird all your life, do ya? You’re a highballin’ sparrow. So you fly high, old cock. Go out there and bite the stars—for me.”
Mai and I exchange surprised glances. That was actually…impressive.
“Wow,” Jasmine breathes.
My voice is a little awed too. “Tucker. That’s poetic. I can’t believe you memorized that.”
Tucker gives me one of his dimpled smiles. “I was a kid when I first saw that movie. I got to say cock out loud and my mom couldn’t yell at me.”
Mai and I groan in unison.
Cooper gives him a high five. “Gotta love a good cock quote.”
Heads turn at the loud word. Avi hides his face in his hands.
“What?” Cooper says, looking around at the neighboring tables. “It’s a bird word.”
“Hey, that rhymes,” Tucker adds. They both grin like they’re Shakespeare.
“Orange is better. But still not a French fry,” Anthony says.
Mai nods. “But now you’ve had your vegetables for the day.”
Anthony lights up with a
