want to do the very best for our children. It’s why we made the choice to have our children attend private school.”
“I understand. Thank you for coming to see me.”
Mrs. Trainor offered a condescending smile as she gathered her bag. “You’re welcome.”
Riki waited until the door clicked shut behind her before she slumped back into her chair, her thoughts scattered across the table in front of her like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Only three months until summer break. She could do this. As she moved a stack of noun worksheets toward her, her phone trilled with a text. Brandon’s name appeared on her screen, and her foul mood vanished.
Hey, Riki. Great news! They asked me to audition for one of the leads on Baggage. Thanks a million for hooking me up.
She began typing.
You’re welcome! I’m so happy for you. Let me know how it goes. I’m rooting for you! :)
Aw, thanks. You’re the sweetest. Also, will you not mention this to Em? I don’t want to get her hopes up.
Riki reread the text and told her heart to chill. Sweet was clearly a word Brandon used a lot. That’s all. It wasn’t his subtle way of telling her he loved her. She closed her eyes and tried to center her thoughts. It was getting harder, not easier. She told her mind to picture Principal Rosenkranz, but all she could see was Brandon’s smiling face. He winked at her. Now we share a secret, sweetie, she imagined him saying. She shook her head and began typing.
I won’t say anything. I’m excited for you!
She stared at her phone as she waited for his response, half wishing he would respond with a little heart and half wishing he wouldn’t respond at all. “I really wish I didn’t like you so much, Brandon,” she whispered. “And I hope you get the part.”
A rattling sounded outside the classroom, and her eyes sprang open, jolting her back to reality. She stood abruptly and grabbed her phone, shoving it into her pocket as George, the grandfatherly custodian, wheeled his cart past her room. He always started on the far end and worked his way to Riki’s. It wasn’t because he was saving the best for last. George wasn’t harboring secret, loving feelings for Riki. And she certainly didn’t engage him in conversation because she had a crush on him. She was only being polite, just like Brandon. After moving her chair, she began pacing around the table. “Riki, it’s fine for you to like Brandon. Fine!” she hissed. “It’s impossible not to,” she muttered. She blew out a breath and pushed her arms forward, as though shoving a heavy door closed. “But I have to stop trying to find clues that he likes me,” she whispered. “It’s making me crazy,” she said, gripping her head. “I just need to stop. Please let me stop.”
Her phone sounded again, and she walked slowly to the table to retrieve it.
Thanks, sweetie. You’re awesome.
She sank into the plastic chair. “You’re awesome too, Brandon. But you’re killing me,” she said aloud. “Killing. Me.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Tuesday, March 14
Even though the rain had finally stopped, the world was soggy. The air was heavy and thick like a pregnant woman ready to give birth. Waterlogged newspapers sat on driveways, turned to pulp. Why can’t people bring them in? Sylvia wondered. They’ll only end up in the storm drains. Or they’ll sit so long, the sun will bake them into crunchy piles until someone finally scoops them up and dumps them.
She parked directly in front of the house and strode to the stately front door. A flock of birds flapped above, testing their wings after the soaking they’d received. How beautiful, she thought. A good sign, indeed. But upon a closer look, she realized they were pigeons. Flying rats, as she called them. Dirty little creatures.
Well, it was true that anything could appear beautiful from a distance.
She rapped the ornate knocker against the door and stood back to wait, the pale-blue bag in hand. Hugh was at work already, but that was part of the plan.
Moments later, a timid voice called, “Who is it?”
“Sylvia Webb.” She added a friendly lilt to her voice that mimicked Embry. “I’m a coworker of your husband’s, and I’m here to drop off a baby gift. A little late,” she added with a laugh.
The door opened, and Lily’s hand fluttered to her chest. “Hi. I recognize you. You were with Hugh at Coffee Zombie a while back.”