Kissing the Shy Guy - Stephanie Street Page 0,9

how I felt about her healthy cookies. “Chocolate chip with pecans.”

My favorite. Finally, something positive about today. I took two cookies from the pantry, placed them on a napkin on the kitchen island, and then poured a small glass of milk from the fridge. I hardly ever drank milk, only when eating cookies and even then, just a little and only if the milk was cold.

“How did practice go?” Mom asked over the running water from the faucet.

“It was going fine until Josh quit on me.” I took a huge bite of my cookie. It tasted so good, but not good enough to wipe away the disappointment and frustration left over from Josh’s selfish decision. “And then broke up with me,” I added as an afterthought.

Mom set down the dish she’d been washing and turned off the water. “What? Why would he do that? You guys have been working so hard for months!”

“Yeah, I know,” I said around a mouthful of cookie. I swallowed hard, then picked up the milk and took a gulp.

Mom frowned. “And he broke up with you? Jenna, I’m so sorry. That just doesn’t sound like him.”

I snorted at that. Mom had met Josh just a handful of times. And even then, she’d spent no time getting to know him. Most of what she knew came from the tidbits I shared with her about working with him.

If she knew him, she’d know he didn’t have an altruistic bone in his body. Even as my boyfriend, he’d only agreed to help me with the scholarship because he knew he’d get something out of it. I didn’t blame him. But Mom didn’t understand that kind of thinking.

She always believed the best in people, always assumed their motives were pure. I’d been around long enough, seen enough people take advantage of her willingness to serve to know that was a load of crap. And even she wasn’t altogether pure in heart, was she? Why did she do the things she did? Taking food to the sick and watching other people’s kids for free and visiting the elderly in nursing homes? Because it made her feel good. It wasn’t only for the people she helped. It was for herself, too.

“I don’t know, Mom. He just said he quit and walked out.” After telling me he’d been seeing someone else behind my back. But she didn’t need to know that.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. But you’ll figure something out. You always do.” She patted my shoulder across the island before turning back to the dishes. “Can you stay home with Melly tonight? Your dad has a meeting, and I’m teaching a class on budgeting at the women’s shelter.”

Of course, she was. “Sure. No problem.” It wasn’t like I had anything else to do, like find a new partner in the next twenty-four hours or choose a new piece to perform.

“Thanks. And can you warm up dinner for the two of you? Dad’s having a dinner meeting, and there will be finger foods at the shelter.” Mom turned off the water again and dried her hands.

“Fine,” I said, inhaling a deep, long-suffering breath.

“I’ll go change and then I have to go. Melly is in her room drawing. She had a long day, so she’ll probably want to watch a movie before bed.”

Mom hurried from the kitchen without waiting for me to respond to that. Typical. I finished my second cookie and the last sip of milk. I was tempted to leave my dirty glass in the clean sink, but that was petty. I washed the glass, left it in the drainer to dry, and then tossed my napkin into the trash.

Upstairs, I peeked in Melly’s room and found her sound asleep with her head on her desk. “Oh, no.” I hurried into her room and shook her shoulder. “Melly. Melly. Wake up!”

Melly groaned, turning her face in her arms. A long string of drool connected her lip and forearm. Crouching down, I tried again.

“Melly, honey. Do you want to watch a movie?” Her almond-shaped eyes rolled under her closed lids.

Melly was short for Melanie. She was two years younger than me, but since she’d been born with Down’s Syndrome, it always seemed to be more than that.

I picked up the towel draped over the back of her chair and wiped her mouth. “Melly! Wake up. How about some pizza?” I knew if she slept much longer, she would have a hard time sleeping when it was time for bed later.

“Pizza,” Melly murmured, still mostly