Meet Me at Midnight - Jessica Pennington Page 0,29
didn’t go off.”
“I hate when that happens,” Sidney says. Her voice drips with mock sympathy.
“Sidney brought us extra cinnamon rolls,” Mom says, just before biting into one.
“I love them, but Dad doesn’t,” Sidney says. “We had way too many.” Sidney bites into one of the gooey circles. “Plus I wanted to see if you wanted to take a run with me. I was going to drive down to the trails that run by the river.”
“That’s a great idea,” Mom says. “You two will be teammates soon.”
Sidney’s eyes dart from my mom to me, but if she’s surprised that the two of us will both be swimming at our parents’ alma mater in a few months she doesn’t show it. I suppose even without talking we have our moms to keep us both flush with intel. I’m about to tell my future teammate there’s no way I’m running this morning, when I realize that this is my chance. My ticket out of the house for a few hours, no questions asked.
“Awesome.” I sound unintentionally ecstatic. Sidney’s surprised face makes the sharp pang my own voice just shot into my head almost worth it. She never expected me to say yes. “Give me a few minutes.”
Sidney turns back to my mother, who is peppering her with questions. Glancing at everyone at the table with their attention focused on gooey rolls—and Sidney—I make my way to the sink. I’ve never been so glad to have her in my house. Quietly, I open the cabinet underneath and pull out a black trash bag. I don’t look back at the table. I clench it in my fist, close to my side, and walk as fast as I can toward the hallway without running. When I’m back in my room I stuff my pile of bedding into the black bag, pull on socks, shoes, and a T-shirt, and shove my bag of shame out the window. It lands on the gravel driveway that runs behind the house, wedged between it and Dad’s car. From the corner of the yard I see a flash of movement. Nadine is standing in the yard, looking between my head hanging out of the window and the giant bag now lying on the ground. I give her a tentative wave, trying to look casual—nothing to see here!—and retreat back into my bedroom.
“You ready?” I say as I walk back into the kitchen, grabbing a napkin and a cinnamon roll before bolting toward the door.
Sidney follows after me, keys in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “Feeling good this morning?” she says, her voice more annoyed than sympathetic.
“Fantastic,” I say.
“You look fantastic.”
I haven’t looked at myself at all this morning. I didn’t even stop in the bathroom. For all I know she covered my face in Sharpie last night.
“Do I have a dick on my face or something?”
“What?” She looks legitimately shocked. “No.” She shakes her head, her face twisted in disgust. “What am I, a ten-year-old boy? Give me some freaking credit.”
Sidney turns toward the car and I jog to the right. I pick up the garbage bag and haul it toward her car on the other side of the driveway.
“What are you doing?” Sidney says.
“Pop the trunk.”
She leans her hip against the car and crosses her arms. “Not until you tell me what’s in the bag.”
“I’ll tell you in the car,” I say, and hear the trunk click and pop.
“Well?” We’re a mile down the road when Sidney finally presses me on the contraband in her trunk. “Am I helping you hide a body or something?”
“Why, do you have experience in that? Have a checklist you need to go back for?”
She gives a little grunt of annoyance. “Please, as if I’d keep any evidence of that,” she says softly.
“I need you to drop me off at the Laundromat.”
“Why?”
“Because I hear they have the best breakfast in town.” I roll my eyes. “What do people usually do at Laundromats?”
“Doesn’t your dad do laundry on Tuesdays?”
“Just drop me off, Sidney.”
She drums her fingers softly against the steering wheel. “Did you … have an accident or something?” Sidney is barely controlling herself. She sounds like she’s about to break into laughter at any moment. Her shoulders are shaking gently.
“What did you do? Put my hand in warm water or something? Jesus, Sidney.”
“Settle down.” She sounds defensive. “You seriously thought you peed the bed?”
“What the hell was I supposed to think when I woke up in a wet bed?”