16 Things I Thought were True Part 15

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. McLean," Amy says. "You look very good for someone who just had a heart attack."

Mom glances at me.

"It wasn't a heart attack," I remind Amy. "Just a blockage."

"Oh. Sorry. I knew that. I just meant you're so pretty and young.

My mom looks like she could be your grandma."

"Well, that's the nicest thing I've heard all day," my mom says and smiles more genuinely than I've seen in a while.

She's so easily charmed, but I smile too because, as far as I can guess, Amy wasn't even trying to charm. She pretty much says whatever is on her mind. She's not one to lie. Well, except when she made me give her five dollars because she got busted for eating popcorn. There was that. But she did pay me back- with interest.

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J a n e t G u r t l e r "It's true," Amy says. "My mom's hair is gray and she's round."

Jake laughs.

"I don't mean to sound mean. She is round. She calls herself that." She shrugs. "We don't care, my dad and I. She's big-boned."

Her eyes light up. "Oh. I made you all something," she says. She reaches into her hoodie pocket and pulls out a handful of some- thing. "Hold up your wrist," she says to me. I do as I'm told, and she slips a thick, colorful, rope bracelet on it. I turn my wrist over, admiring it. It's made of soft material, like a T- shirt or something.

Then she turns to my mom. "Wrist," she says.

"What?" My mom frowns but does as she's told.

"I had to make one for the whole family," Amy says and ties a beau- tiful bead bracelet with a heart pendant on it around Mom's wrist.

"It's really pretty," Mom says.

"It's my hobby," Amy answers.

She turns to Jake and puts two dark leather, knotted bracelets in his hand. "I didn't know if you would wear these, but I didn't want to leave the brothers out."

Jake grins broadly and slides both bracelets on his wrist.

Amy frowns at him. "One is for the other brother."

"Yeah. Well, we'll see if he deserves it."

Amy smiles and looks to me. "I thought you said your brothers were dorks," she says without a trace of irony. "He's not a dork."

Jake throws his head back and laughs like it's the best joke he's heard in years. Mom makes a sound in her throat like she's covering up laughter. I roll my eyes and step between Amy and Jake.

"I meant dork in the nicest possible way. Okay. We should go," I

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1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e say to Amy and put my hand on her back to move her out the front door. I make a mental note to explain to her the concept of tact.

Amy digs her feet in, giving my mom a laundry list of the routes we're taking and how she's had the car inspected and her dad gave her his credit card. Amy tells her she's loaded up on snacks and drinks, and we're completely prepared for the trip.

Jake is watching us as if he's mesmerized. I wonder if someone took his brain out or if he's developed a drug habit. Jake doesn't stare at girls like that. And his cheeks are blotchy. I look at Amy and try to see her through his eyes, but all I see is a tiny, quirky girl with brown hair and a skinny build. She's pretty, but nothing like the girls Josh dates. Of course, part of the beauty of Jake is that he sees people from the inside. And whatever it is inside of Amy, he seems to like it.

"Come on, motor mouth," I say to Amy, and she laughs, but Jake gives me a dirty look and it makes me giggle inside.

"Text me," Mom says, and her voice breaks at the end of the sentence. I look at her pale face with her naked lips pressed tightly together, and my heart swoops. It hits me with a force. I'm going to meet my father. I wonder if the fear in her eyes is for me- or her.

"I'll be on roaming, so it'll be expensive." I don't want to chat with her while I'm doing this. It's too confusing. "But if there's an emergency, text me." I stress the word emergency. I don't want to deal with her drama, but I am worried about her health.

"I can give you my cell number," Amy says to my mom. "My dad bought me a texting plan for the weekend, and I have unlimited texting and calling from Canada." She looks at my mom and then at me.

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J a n e t G u r t l e r "Nice of him," Jake says.

"He worries."

"I'll get a pen and paper," Mom says.

"No. Wait here. I'll be right back." Jake darts into the living room and trots back holding his phone. "Here, put your number in my contact list. Just in case." He hands her his phone. "I'll text it to my mom after."

"Sure. Yeah." She types in her info and then looks up at him, and they both smile. I watch the both of them.

"My dad invented Sour Cats," she tells Jake, as if it's natural she should tell him everything about her. Based on Jake's goofy smile, he doesn't mind.

"Did I tell you how she pretended to be poor and made me give her five bucks?" I ask.

"I did not make you," she says and glares at me then looks at Jake. "I got caught eating popcorn at work. It was the first excuse that came to mind. I felt really bad about it. She made me take her five dollars."

I barely resist the urge to tease her some more.

"I only got the job at Tinkerpark to make new friends. I was homeschooled for a long time."

"Yeah. People probably don't get you," Jake says. "That happens to me all the time."

I look back and forth between them and then glance at Mom.

Her eyebrows are raised and she's trying to cover her amused smile with her hand.

Miraculously, Amy doesn't say anything- but she's beaming.

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1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e Jake glances at her. "So, um, text me. When you get there. Let me know how you're doing. Um. How Morgan is doing. You know, so we don't have to rack up her phone bill." I open my mouth then close it and put down my gym bag to slide on my laceless sneakers.

"Be careful, Morgan, okay? Don't let this guy hurt you." Jake reaches for my bag. "I'll carry it to Amy's car for you," he says.

"It's okay." I shake my head and take the bag from him. This guy is my dad, after all. I open the door and wait for Amy to follow me.

"Okay. I'll see you in a few days," I say to my mom without look- ing at her.

"Morgan..." Her voice is hoa.r.s.e. I look at her, and her lips are pressed tight and her hand rubs her chin. "Whatever happens, what- ever you find out...just remember that I love you." She blinks quickly.

I walk outside and Amy follows me. Jake slips on shoes and walks behind us, and the two of them gab all the way down the sidewalk to the street where Amy's car is parked. I glance up at the sky. Black clouds are swirling in the air and it's cool. Amy pops the trunk, and I throw my stuff in and walk to the pa.s.senger door. I'm about to jump in the car when the front door of the house opens and Mom runs outside. Her robe pops open and she grabs it and wraps it around her.

"Morgan?" she yells. Loudly.

I glance around to see if any neighbors are outside. Mrs. Phillips next door will have a great time with this. She thinks my mom is crazy already. She's mostly right.

Mom sniffles loudly. "I'm sorry," she cries. She drags a hand under her nose, clings to her bathrobe with the other, and bats her

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J a n e t G u r t l e r eyes, her mouth quivering. There's an instant ache in my chest. It was already there, but it's bigger now and it hurts my lungs. I inhale deeply as if I'm hollowed out.

"I'm sorry," she repeats.

The words slice through the wind and cut into me like the cold in the air. I want to yell and ask why she's sorry now, eighteen years later, but I lift my hand in the air, wave, and then open the car door.

Jake steps closer. "Don't worry, Chaps. She'll be fine. I'll take care of her." I get in the pa.s.senger side, and he walks around and opens the driver's door for Amy, holding it while she climbs inside. And then he steps back to the sidewalk, watching while Amy fires up the car. I wonder who is going to take care of me. And isn't that the point?

"Oh my G.o.d," I say as she checks over her shoulder for cars and pulls out. Jake is standing on the sidewalk, waving, and my mom appears to be freaking out and trying to run after the car. Jake is holding her back. "What the h.e.l.l is wrong with my family?"

Amy lifts her hand to wave as she pulls away and toots her horn.

"Nothing at all," she says. "They're awesome."

I close my eyes and try to let my mom's distress go. I don't want to take it with me. It is not mine to own. Not now.

Amy reaches across the console and pats my leg. "Don't worry.

You're going to be fine. I had a dream." I stare at her to see if she's joking, and she giggles. "Chaps," she says. "You brother calls you Chaps?"

I start to laugh. She's sitting on a cushion to make her taller. It cracks me up.

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1 6 t h i n g s i t h o u g h t w e r e t r u e Adam lives in the newest suburban area on the outskirts of town.

Amy's got the address programmed into her GPS, and we find it without any trouble. As soon as we pull in front of a brown and black house nearly identical to all the others on the street, Adam comes running out the front door and up the drive. He's wearing black jeans with a plain white T- shirt and a green plaid shirt flapping open. His hair looks kind of frantic, sticking up in all sorts of directions.

"He's cute," Amy says as we watch him run to the car. I silently agree. "Like a nerdy band guy," she says.

"He looks like a young doctor," I say.

She tilts her head, watching him out the window. "Maybe a mad scientist."

He reaches the car and Amy pops the hatch, and he dumps in a small black bag, closes it, and then crawls into the backseat. He slides into the car. "Drive," he yells to Amy with a trace of panic in his voice.