Somewhere Over the Freaking Rainbow - By L.L. Muir Page 0,20
you haven't read it, Mr. Cloward, you should!”
Wisdom over passion? Jamison had settled for wisdom years ago—the wisdom to keep his mouth shut and his head down. Passion, though...passion, for basketball or anything else, only caused pain.
Holy crap, Jamison was as old a fart as the teacher. His wisdom seemed to fade with Skye Somerled around, though. Better to avoid her like the plague.
But that wouldn’t be easy—not with her popping up around every freaking corner.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jamison was fairly certain which direction to take for his next class was, but suddenly she was there. Skye. Odd name. It suited her though.
“Jamison.”
“’S up?”
“I don’t know any better way than to just tell you. It’s about your grandfather.”
He reached out and grabbed her shoulders to steady himself. “What? He’s not...”
“No. Sorry, he’s fine. It’s just that he had a test done a couple of days ago.”
“Yeah, I got there just as they were taking him away.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know if you and your mom were aware.” She bit her lip and looked down, and in that instant...
...the world stopped.
The feeling that he’d forgotten something vanished, like a tooth ache ebbing away as the pain medication kicks in. And Jamison felt unbelievable relief. What if he hadn’t remembered?
But that wasn’t right. He hadn’t forgotten her, really. He’d just forgotten what it felt like to be near her, talk to her, touch her. He suddenly remembered touching her in the parking lot the day before and feeling absolutely...complete. Then he’d run into her at the Recovery Center and been jealous of both her and Granddad, that they had a friendship he had no part in.
He remembered the feeling of an elastic stretching between them, and sensing how far away from him she was whenever he couldn’t see her. How had he let her slip his mind all morning? How had he woken up without her being his first thought? The first image?
He was probably grinning at her like an idiot, but he couldn’t seem to stop. She was fidgeting, noticing other kids noticing them, so he let go of her shoulders and grabbed her hands instead. She wasn’t wearing gloves.
The world lurched, started turning again, like a merry-go-round stopping and starting beneath him, then humming along smoothly. He could have stood there all day looking into her eyes. The hall was emptying and there was no one around to stop him from doing just that.
“Jamison!”
“What?”
“Listen to me.” She tried to pull her hands away, but he held tight.
“I’m listening.”
“Kenneth is going to find out about those test results tomorrow, and if it’s bad news, it would be best for him to have family with him.”
“I’ll be there.”
“I mean, your mom. It might be a really hard day for him, and if your mom could be with him, it might make a huge difference.”
Jamison came out of the Skye haze he’d wandered into. Odd, but he got the feeling she didn’t want him wandering there.
“I don’t know. My mom still hasn’t forgiven him for something. I think she’s trying to work herself up to being able to face him again.”
“Jamison, you have to push her. There may not be time for her to come around on her own.”
He’d been worrying the same thing.
“You have to get her to read the letter.” Skye squeezed his hands, but he doubted she realized it.
“What letter?”
The bell rang. An effeminate teacher walked toward them and cleared his throat like an old librarian subtly telling them to shut the hell up and get to class.
“I’ve got to go. You’ll know the letter when you see it. Just find the letter.” Skye ran off in the opposite direction of his next class.
He hurried to Ballroom Dance, wishing she were in his class so he could hold onto her and get credit for it. They dared to call it an Elective, but in order to call it that, they should let you elect who you had to dance with.
He’d spend as much time with Granddad as he could, then he’d tear the house apart for the letter. And he’d have to do it before it got buried under all that stuff the movers would be unloading that evening.
Crap. He had no room in his schedule for school that day, but he had no choice. If he went to the Recovery Center, Granddad would call him on the carpet for missing school. If he mooched a ride home in the middle of the day, the school would call his mom. It wasn’t like