out his hand to him. Sawyer hesitates before extending his arm and accepting Dad’s shake. “A boy would have sent her up the stairs and run.
“Next time though”—Dad’s grip visibly tightens—“I’d appreciate it if you brought her back with fewer marks on her body like the one currently on her neck.”
Sawyer turns bright red. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Yeah, well, it’s time for you to head home.” Dad doesn’t sound angry, just tired, and he returns his concerned gaze to me.
I don’t want Sawyer to leave. Not like this, not yet. Not with him having seen me like this. Not with me going out of town tomorrow. “Can Sawyer and I say good-bye?” And I become very brave. “Alone.”
Dad’s eyebrows shoot up. “Alone, eh? I think you two had plenty of alone time to say good-bye, but because I’m a good sport, I’m going to make some coffee, in the kitchen, and you two have a few more minutes for good-bye. Words, mind you.”
It’s the best I’ll get, and I’m aware how awesome my father is. I know of no other parent who would be even close to as cool as Dad’s being. True to his word, Dad heads into the kitchen and offers us his back to allow us privacy. Sawyer moves in front of me and crouches so that we’re eye to eye. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I say in return, and it’s strange how fascinatingly shy I feel.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just a headache. A weird headache, but a headache. When you hang with me strange things will happen.”
Sawyer flashes me his adorable, cocky grin. “That I know.”
I’m flying.
“You didn’t answer me earlier,” Sawyer whispers, but there’s no doubt Dad probably hears. “Is this something we can continue?”
I nibble on my bottom lip then whisper back, “There will be rules.”
“Rules. I can do that. Tell me what they are.”
I glance over at Dad, and he immediately returns to pouring cream into his mug.
“We’re fun,” I whisper as silently as I can, in a way that Sawyer can hear and not Dad. “We can be us, together, but there’s no pressure. We just enjoy each day, okay?”
Sawyer tilts his head as if he’s not convinced, and I quietly continue. “We’re seniors and a lot can happen next year and I want to have fun, not be in an awkward relationship where we become jealous and fight all the time. We hang out, we laugh, we…” I sneak a peek at Dad, he looks away again and I mouth the word, “kiss.”
Sawyer’s eyes laugh and then he takes my hand. “I’m game for fun, and I like having fun with you. But if we kiss, I’m not into sharing.”
“Okay.” I’m happily flustered as he slides his fingers along my arm.
Sawyer is fine with keeping us chill, but wants a kissing-only-each-other commitment, and he’s basically agreeing that this is a senior-year-only thing. That’s good. It’s beyond good. It’s great. We enjoy our senior year, graduate, and then he’ll go off to college, I’ll have my MRI and then that’s when I’ll battle Dad over being sick.
Sawyer leans forward, briefly kisses my lips then stands. Dad tells Sawyer good-bye and he walks out the door. My father grabs his coffee mug and settles on the other end of the couch. He looks over at me and I at him. “A normal parent would ground you for what you pulled tonight.”
I nod because they would. “Are you going to?”
“That would require us to be normal. Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing wrong by you, but your mom told me to trust you and I am. But if you lie to me, that trust goes away and so does my patience with waking to find notes telling me you left.”
“I hear you,” I say. “And I won’t break your trust.”
SAWYER
Monday June 17: Nothing at all doing today. Cured a lot.
M. is polishing over in the MacDonald Solarium now, so I spose I’ll see quite a lot of him. I won’t mind very much, I don’t think. Oh, Diary, I like him. I think that he is a gentleman.
Oh, Diary, I want to go home so badly. I wish I would hurry up and get well, if I’m ever going to.
I suppose I’ll see a lot of Veronica, too. And I like her, as well. I also wonder if I’m going to get well—if when Mom pisses me off I won’t want to jump. Like now.
In a reusable shopping bag by Mom’s feet on the floorboard of the passenger side of