Echoes Between Us - McGarry, Katie Page 0,27

house,” Nazareth says, and that gives me the okay I need. One should always be careful who they invite into a house because once you give death permission, you’ve lost the battle and the war.

“Why are you friends with me?” I don’t quite understand why the question has tumbled out, yet it has. It’s like I’ve lost control. “I mean—other people don’t want to be my friend, so … why?”

“Because you’re you and I’m me. We work. Plus you’ve never asked who my real dad is or why Mom and I moved here nor will you ever. You take me exactly as I am. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

He’s never told me that before. “Jin is your real dad.”

Nazareth gives me one of his rare grins. It hurts my heart because while it’s sweet, it’s also sad. “Go in before you pass out.”

Inside the tiny kitchen, my stomach flips when the smell of something cooking on the stove hits me wrong. All sounds drown out thanks to the roaring in my ears. I waver on my feet, then there are hands on my face. Nazareth’s mom’s kind, dark eyes bore into mine, and while I can’t hear what she’s saying, I can read her lips. Will food make you sick?

I nod.

Like she’s a faded voice of a not-quite-tuned-in radio station, I barely make out the Let’s make you feel better and get you to bed. I grew a plant just for you.

Greer takes my hand and leads me out the front door to her garden house. There I sit at the picnic table she uses to pot and repot her flowers and plants. On the opposite side of the table from me is Nazareth. He’s hard at work placing dried leaves onto a rolling paper. Once done, he rolls the paper into a thin strip then licks the edges to seal it shut.

Nazareth stands, grabs a lighter from the top of a shelf that’s filled with tons of potted plants, most of them spices, and he straddles the bench I’m on to sit beside me. He lights the joint, sucks in a few puffs then gently blows the smoke in my direction. Nazareth doesn’t hold his breath in the search for the high. Instead, he continues to inhale and release until I’m surrounded by a cloud.

I close my eyes and breathe in the oddly sweet scent. There’s a light pressure on my hand and I crack open my eyes enough to take the joint from Nazareth. I put it to my lips, suck in and hold the smoke for so long that my lungs might explode. I shake my head to help hold it a bit longer then let it out in a fast stream and pray that the high comes fast and it comes strong.

* * *

The sound of a door opening causes me to roll over in Nazareth’s bottom bunk bed. I open my heavy lids and lift my head. My sleep was deep and peaceful, and my limbs are gloriously lazy. Unruly red hair pokes into the room. It’s Jesse. He holds a cell to his ear, and whispers, “Yeah, she’s here. V, it’s your dad.”

The room is dark thanks to the heavy curtains, and I glance over at the digital clock on the dresser. It’s seven and my head drops back onto the pillow. Dad. I forgot to call Dad. I reach out my arm and wiggle my fingers in a “gimme.”

“Hold on.” Jesse looks guilty as he walks in and hands me the phone. “Sorry for waking you, but he was worried. Just hearing you were here wasn’t enough.”

“Don’t be sorry.” My voice is thick with sleep. “I want to talk to him.” I should have called him earlier or at least had Nazareth text him, but I couldn’t think beyond my pain. Odds are my cell is still in my backpack on the floorboard of Nazareth’s car.

Jesse leaves, and I stretch as I place Jesse’s cell to my ear. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey.” The concern rolls off his voice in waves. “How are you doing, peanut?”

“Better.”

“Migraine?”

“Yeah.”

“A bad one?”

“Yeah.” One of the worst. “I was able to get through school, though. Nazareth picked me up and brought me to his house. Sorry I didn’t call, but I crashed as soon as I got here.”

Dad’s silent for a few beats as he knows that means I smoked pot. The migraine medication my doctor prescribed doesn’t put a dent into my bad migraines, and when Dad told the doctor this,