“Sean?”
“Is this her BOYFRIEND?” My brother laughs maniacal y.
I lunge into the kitchen and grab the phone. “Hel o? St. Clair?” There’s laughter on the other end of the line. Seany sticks out his tongue, and I push him away by his head. “GO. AWAY.”
“Sorry?” the voice on the phone says.
“I was talking to Sean. Is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“How’d you get this number?”
“Wel , you see, there’s this book. It has white pages. And it has all of these phone numbers listed inside it. It’s also online.”
“Is that your booooy-friend?” Seany asks directly over the receiver.
I push him away again. “He’s a boy who’s a friend. Go watch the countdown.”
“What happened to your mobile?” St. Clair asks. “Did you forget to charge it?”
“I can’t believe it! That’s so unlike me.”
“I know, I was shocked to be sent to voice mail. But I’m glad to have your real number now. Just in case.”
The extra effort it took for him to cal me makes me happy. “What are you up to? Shouldn’t you be out celebrating?”
“Eh. Mum wasn’t feeling well , so I’m staying in tonight. She’s sleeping, so I suppose I’l be watching the countdown alone.” His mom came home from
the hospital a few days ago.The situation has been up and down.
“What about El ie?” The words fal out before I can stop them.
“I, er . . . talked to her earlier. It’s the New Year in Paris, after all. She went back the day after Christmas,” he adds.
I picture them making Amidala kissing noises over the phone. My heart sinks.
“She’s out partying.” His voice is sort of glum.
“Sorry to be your second choice.”
“Don’t be stupid. Third choice. Mum’s asleep, remember?” He laughs again.
“Thanks.Wel , maybe I should hang up before my first choice fal s asleep.” I glance at Seany, who has become quiet in the other room.
“Nonsense, I’ve only just cal ed. But how is your man? He sounded good, even if he didn’t understand a word I said.”
“You do talk funny.” I smile. I love his voice.
“Speak for yourself, Atlanta. I’ve heard the southern accent slip out—”
“No!”
“Yes! Several times this week.”
I hmph, but my smile grows bigger. I’ve spoken with Meredith a few times over the break, too, but she’s never as much fun as St. Clair. I walk the phone
into the living room, where Seany is curled up with my Sand Person. We watch the countdown together. I’m three hours ahead of St. Clair, but we don’t