Under the Light - By Laura Whitcomb Page 0,46

said Mr. Brown.

“Did you write all that?” asked Billy.

Mr. Brown smiled, held his fat, wrinkled collection of pages to his chest, and gave a small bow. “To you, the patron saints of unpublished novels, many thanks.”

If we’d had questions or apologies for each other, we didn’t seem to anymore. We didn’t even say goodbye. Billy took my hand, and as we walked away, Mr. Brown gave me a simple wave that lifted all the heaviness out of my arm.

We had to go back to the library because my mother would be wanting to pick me up. I hoped that if I called her before she got impatient and called me, she might let me study in the library again the next day. Billy and I got muffins at the coffee house across the street from the main branch and sat on the steps. I picked at mine, not feeling hungry anymore.

“I have an idea for our next field trip,” he said. “If I’m still around.”

“Are you going somewhere?” I asked. The idea that he might be moving or going on vacation shook me up.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Where?”

He looked into the distance and decided not to describe it. “Out of town.”

“For how long?” I asked.

This question seemed to pull all the energy out of him. “Don’t worry about it,” he said.

A wave of fear swam up my spine as I saw something from the corner of my eye that had often given me a stomachache—rolling up to the curb, the white bulk of my father’s van.

CHAPTER 19

Jenny

I RUMMAGED THE CELL PHONE out of my bag—I’d forgotten to turn the ringer back on after we’d left the library. I’d missed a call from home two minutes ago.

“What’s wrong?” asked Billy.

“I have to go,” I said. “Don’t follow me.” I started down the steps toward the van as the phone rang. My father parked in the no waiting zone as if rules didn’t apply to him. He got out looking happy. He held a cell phone to his ear, a bright blue one I’d never seen before. The number on my mom’s cell in my hand showed the word “Judy”—was he actually using his lover’s cell phone to call me?

I didn’t answer. I walked up to him and he hung up.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him.

“I needed to see you, Puppy.”

“Mom’s supposed to pick me up.”

He sighed patiently. “Jennifer, I know you’re angry with me right now, but get in the car. I’m not kidnapping you. Your mother knows I’m here.”

I didn’t want to throw a fit in front of Billy, who might still be watching us from the steps. As I opened the passenger door I realized I still had Billy’s sweatshirt jacket tied around my waist. I slipped it off and stuffed it in my bag before sitting down in the front seat—my father didn’t seem to notice.

He got behind the wheel and fastened his seat belt. My phone rang again, muffled by Billy’s jacket pocket. I fished it out as we pulled away from the curb. It was home.

“Put on your seat belt,” he ordered. “Just because your mother and I are ending our marriage does not mean I stop being your father.”

I pulled the belt across my chest—it smelled like some flowery perfume, not like Mom. Then I answered the call.

“I’m okay, Mom.”

“Your father is coming to get you.” She sounded panicky.

“He’s just bringing me home,” I faced him. “Right, Daddy?”

He didn’t bother to respond.

“He says he’s not kidnapping me,” I said. “See you in a few minutes.” I put the phone into my bag. “You left without saying goodbye,” I told him, but he didn’t react at all. “Mom told me you’re moving to San Diego.”

“We are.”

“What did you want to tell me?”

He raised one eyebrow but was in too good of a mood to actually be angry with me. “There’s no need to be disrespectful.”

He had always been the director of my tone. If he said I sounded belligerent or insincere or ungrateful, it was so. But this time instead of apologizing for sounding rude, I asked, “How long have you been seeing Judy?”

He gave a little puff of indignation, but smiled, pleased with himself. “That’s none of your business, young lady.”

He wore a shirt I’d seen him in dozens of times before, but he had the sleeves rolled up and he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. “We need to make plans,” he said. He’d changed his hairstyle.

“If you’re leaving, I should make plans with Mom