personally. (I’m totally going to take it personally, though. So thanks. I’ll be needing that angst allotment back to deal with it. It might even creep into your Sunday hours tbh, but you brought this on yourself.)
PEAK: Ha. Okay fine. Do you ever feel like you’re not enough of something? Or you’re too much of something else?
BATS: Every day.
PEAK: What do you do about it?
BATS: Nothing healthy.
PEAK: Helpful.
BATS:
PEAK: No, seriously. What do you do?
BATS: Obsess over ways I could make myself more. Or less. Until I’m completely spun out and don’t know which way is up. It is not a method I would recommend.
PEAK: Yeah. Sounds shitty.
BATS: Astute observation.
PEAK: I wish you were here.
BATS: Me too . . .
PEAK: I should probably get some sleep. It’s late. Plus I don’t want to take up too much of your angst allotment. It sounds like you need it.
BATS: I appreciate that. But Peak?
PEAK: Yeah?
BATS: Whatever it is, you’re definitely enough. Like, exactly the right amount. I guarantee it.
PEAK:
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ridley
“I DON’T KNOW what you want me to tell you,” I say, squeezing my hand around my phone so hard it hurts. I need to calm down; I can’t get this worked up. I have to be at Verona in a half hour. Jubilee is working there after school, and I promised her I’d meet her—
“Ridley!”
If my dad will let me off the phone, that is. “What? I gotta go!”
“You know how important this is. Quit screwing around. Remember you’re here for a reason,” he says.
“Right, I’m here to get you what you need and stay out of the way.”
My dad’s barely even been home lately, and Allison stays locked in her room. Last night I even made dinner for all of us—I was feeling guilty about the whole fake-report thing.
My dad didn’t even take a plate, because he was “full from a dinner meeting,” and Allison just grabbed some and took it up to her room. It’s whatever. At least I don’t feel guilty anymore. I honestly didn’t think it was possible to like a house less than the Seattle house, and yet.
And yet.
“You know that’s not true, Ridley,” he says, his voice softening just enough that I almost fall for it. Almost.
“Which part?”
He sighs. “Why do you insist on making everything so difficult?”
“Guess I learned from the best,” I say, staring at the road below my window.
“Ridley, please. I’m happy you’re here. I enjoy spending time with you, but I need you to find me something I can use. We’re so close.” He sounds so desperate, I almost feel bad.
I want to tell him there isn’t anything, because so far there mostly isn’t, but I know there’s a huge chance he’ll send me back to Seattle for that. And I can’t. This house might blow to live in, but Verona feels like coming home. I’m not giving that up.
“I’ll keep looking,” I lie.
“There’s always something,” Dad says, which is my biggest fear. What if I do find something? What then?
There’s a little thump at my door, probably Allison listening in, and I hate her so much, even though our eyes are matching in desperation these days. “Dad, I have to go. I’m meeting Jubilee soon, and I’m skating there, so.”
“Why isn’t Allison driving you?” he asks, like it never occurred to him that I might walk everywhere or take my board. That maybe Allison and I aren’t even talking, let alone close enough for me to ask for a ride.
“I just want to skate.”
I click my phone off while my dad is still talking and slide on my hoodie. It’s cold enough for a full winter jacket, but I didn’t pack one and Mom hasn’t bothered to send it. Dad calls