Cricket is holding Aleck’s daughter again.
“I’m sorry!” he shouts. “She won’t let me put her down!”
“It’s okay!” I shout back.
And then I realize something. I slam my window shut. Cricket looks startled, but I hold up a finger and mouth ONE SECOND. I rip out a page from my spiral notebook and scribble on it with a fat purple marker. I hold the message against my window.
MY PARENTS!!! TALK LATER? WHEN NO BABY!!!
He looks relieved. And then panicked as he slams his own window shut. The next minute is rife with tension as we wait for my parents to tear into my bedroom. They don’t. But even with our windows closed, I hear Abigail’s cries. Cricket bounces her on his hip, pleading with her, but her face remains contorted in misery.
Where is Aleck? Or Aleck’s wife? Shouldn’t they be taking care of this?
Calliope bursts through Cricket’s door. She takes Abigail from him, and Abigail screams harder. Both of the twins wince as Calliope thrusts her back into Cricket’s arms. The baby grows quieter, but she’s still crying. Calliope glances in my direction. She freezes, and I give a weak wave. She scowls.
Cricket sees her expression and says something that causes her to stalk away. Her bedroom light turns on seconds later. He’s turning back toward me, still bouncing Abigail, when Mrs. Bell enters. I yank my curtains closed. Whatever is going on over there, I don’t want his mom to think I’m spying on it.
I sit back down with my five-paragraph essay for English, but I can’t concentrate. That familiar, nauseating feeling of guilt. When I saw the Bells in their driveway last week, they were clearly in distress about something. And I never asked Cricket what it was about. He was in my bedroom for an entire night, and I didn’t even think to ask. And he’s always concerned about what’s happening in my life. I’m so selfish.
A new kind of truth hits me: I’m not worthy of him.
His light turns off, and the sudden darkness acts as a confirmation of my fears. He’s too good for me. He’s sweet and kind and honest. Cricket Bell has integrity. And I don’t deserve him. But . . . I want him anyway.
Is it possible to earn someone?
He doesn’t return for nearly two hours. The moment he’s back, I raise my window again. Cricket raises his. Exhaustion has settled between his brows, and his shoulders are sagging. Even a lock of hair has flopped onto his forehead. I’ve never seen Cricket’s hair fall down. “I’m sorry.” His voice is tired. He keeps it low, conscious that the parental threat has not passed. “For last night. For this morning, for tonight. Your parents didn’t come up, did they? I’m such an id—”
“Stop, please.You don’t have to apologize.”
“I know. Our rule.” He’s glum.
“No. I mean, don’t apologize for last night. Or this morning. I wanted you there.”
He raises his head. Once again, the intensity of his eyes makes my heart stutter.
“I—I’m the one who’s sorry,” I continue. “I knew something was going on with your family, and I didn’t ask. It didn’t even cross my mind.”
“Lola.” His brow deepens farther. “You’re going through a difficult time. I would never expect you to be thinking about my family right now. That would be crazy.”
Even when I’m in the wrong, he puts me in the right. I don’t deserve him.
I hesitate.
Earn him.
“So . . . what’s going on? Unless you don’t want to tell me. I’d understand.”
Cricket leans his elbows against his windowsill and looks into the night sky. The star on his left hand has faded from washing, but it’s still there. He waits so long to answer that I wonder if he heard me. A foghorn bleats in the distance. Mist creeps into my room, carrying the scent of eucalyptus. “My brother left his wife last week. Aleck took Abby, and they’re staying here until he figures out what to do next. He’s not in great shape, so we’re kinda taking care of them both right now.”
“Where’s his wife? Why did he take the baby?”
“She’s still at their apartment. She’s going through . . . a lifestyle crisis.”
I wrap my arms around myself. “What does that mean? She’s a lesbian?”
“No.” Cricket pries his eyes from the sky to glance at me, and I see that he’s uncomfortable. “She’s much younger than Aleck. They married, got pregnant, and now she’s rebelling against it. This new life. She stays out late, parties. Last weekend . . . my brother found out that she’d cheated on him.”
“I’m so sorry.” I think about Max. About Cricket in my bedroom. “That’s awful.”