Read Never Gonna Tell for Free Online Page B

head to the kitchen where Dad is in the middle of whipping up one of his crazy dinner concoctions, like truffle mac ‘n cheese with taco meat topped with guacamole. Yeah, that’s a taste you never get out of your mouth.
    Dad nods, tossing in a handful of herbs to the pot. “Charlie called while you were gone. He said things are going better than expected, and they’re staying with some cousins he hasn’t seen since he was a little boy.”
    “You mean the ones who used to kick and punch him for being gay?” I can’t keep the anger out of my voice.
    Dad puts the spoon down and sighs. “No one likes this, Reagan. Your mom and I included. But I promise he honestly sounded happy.”
    I snatch a handful of Oreos from the jar before pouring myself a big glass of milk to dunk them in. I need to stuff my mouth with something before the things I’m thinking are able to escape. Besides, if Dad is cooking, I need to fill up on something else and claim I’m not hungry. I sit on one of the barstools at the kitchen island, my feet dangling since I’m too short to reach the footrest.
    “He said he’ll call you tonight. You guys can Skype. Now, tell me about what you’re working on.”
    I twist another Oreo in half. “I’m working on a story for the newspaper. I stayed late to follow up with some sources.”
    “Did the school finally approve the budget to get it funded again?”
    I shake my head since my mouth is full of chocolate and cream goodness and then follow up with a large swig of milk. “Not yet, but the vice principal said if I bring them a few stories on my own, they’ll put together a small feature piece to see if they can garner interest from the other students. He thinks with enough student interest, he may be able to convince the PTA to fund it for a year, and since I’m a senior, a year is all I need.”
    This is, of course, a total lie. I hate lying to my dad, but he tends to worry. And if Dad worries, he’ll tell those worries to Mom, who’ll pull her protective mama bear routine and I’ll never finish this story. Plus she has enough to worry about already. Mom’s worries are one of the main reasons we moved from Baltimore. After those students went missing, and then two others died from gang-related shootings, Mom decided that the city wasn’t the appropriate environment to raise a child. I didn’t bother to tell Mom that there are just as many drugs, just as much sex, and just as many problems here in rural Tennessee as there were in Baltimore. Kids here just hide behind their sweet southern upbringings and church-going parents more than they did in Baltimore.
    “Well, that’s great, honey. What’s your story about?” He doesn’t look up as he chops random vegetables: zucchini, kale, edamame, and a sweet potato. I don’t even want to guess what he’s making tonight.
    “I can’t go into too much detail about it right now; it’s still in its infancy. But I have some promising stuff I’m working on and if all goes well, I might have it ready to go in a few weeks.”
    Dad dumps a handful of random spices in the pot with the vegetables and potato before coming around the corner and hugging me. Our house is starting to smell like dirty gym socks. “I’m so proud of you, Reagan. When you were a baby, we may have hoped you’d become president, but I’m pretty sure we’re still going to see your name in headlines one day.”
    “So you won’t object to me skipping dinner to follow up on a lead tonight? I just want to go to the county library and do some research using their newspaper archive machine. Their online archive system doesn’t go back very far. Technology out in the boonies isn’t great, so I need to do this old school.”
    Dad sighs. Family dinners are a big deal in my house, and getting out of them usually requires something major—midterms or a huge project or something. I try to sweeten him up. “I wouldn’t leave if it weren’t important, not with how good dinner