Read Zarr, Sara - Sweethearts for Free Online Page B

my chest, in my limbs -- every part of me but my stomach. "Yeah," I said, "dinner would be nice." "It's not too cold out to fire up the grill. Or I can just wimp out and do mac and cheese___" I could already picture Alan's hand reaching back into the cupboard for the shiny blue box, and the way the butter would melt into the orangey powder. "That sounds good. Mac and cheese." I'd be good tomorrow, I told myself. I just had to get the eating out of my system and then I could get back on track. Later that night, after Mom and Alan had gone to bed and the house was quiet and I couldn't sleep, I sat out on the porch in my pajamas and robe, pushing against the cement with my slippered feet, back and forth in the aluminum rocker. We'd had a rocking chair, Mom and me, in our old apartment, before Alan. It was my favorite place to sit with a book and a snack and the comforting motion. Now, I thought about Ethan and how I owed him a phone call or at least an e-mail, but every time I imagined what I would say I came up empty. Even my many years' experience of faking my way through life wasn't helping; I'd been brought to a complete stop by the idea of Cameron being alive, and Jennifer Harris being alive right along with him. As if she had ever died. Believing that was my mistake; I realized it the second I'd slipped that candy bar under my jacket, as easy and natural as if I'd never stopped. There on the porch I thought I heard something, and suddenly held still. The swish-swish sound of the rocker halted and everything became strangely sharp, vivid: the cold night breeze that blew through my hair, the sound of leaves scraping along the walk, the shadow of the trees against the blue- black sky. Where was he? "Cameron," I whispered. "Cameron Quick. Come home." I waited, as if he'd just appear out of the dark. He didn't. So I conjured him up, circa 1998, because I knew this memory hadn't died any more than Jennifer had. He's standing behind his father, with something in his hands. The thing in his hands is greeny brown and drooping. It's Moe, his lizard. It doesn't move. Cam says it's your birthday. He made you something. Yeah, that's right, but I wouldn't get too excited, I mean, don't get your hopes up. I've seen it and it's pretty much a piece of crap. I look at Cameron and try to tell him with my eyes that it's okay; whatever he made is going to be good and I'll like it because he made it. That's a lot to try to say with your eyes and I don't know if he understands, so I find my voice. /'// like it, I tell Cameron, but his dad thinks I'm talking to him. Sure, you say that now, but the proof is in the pudding, right, so let's take a look. He turns toward Cameron's room and then stops and looks back, right at me. Well come on already, I'm not going to send an engraved invitation. After one last glance at the front door, I follow them toward Cameron's room. Cameron goes first, moving fast, Moe's tail hanging over his arm. His dad wears boots, the kind you hike in, and he walks in long-legged strides like he's going to step on Cameron's heels. And then there is me, my pink sneakers on the gray carpet, hoping that we'll just look at the gift and his dad won't say anything else about me being chubby or Cameron being stupid, and Moe is only sleeping, not dead, and then I can go home. CHAPTER 6 ON FRIDAY, I DROVE MYSELF TO SCHOOL AND FOUND ETHAN waiting for me at my locker. Seeing him there in his favorite cargo pants and the red high-tops, and the smile he gave me as I walked toward him, I wanted to throw my arms around him and be reminded of who I was. But then two very cute and tiny freshman girls passed him and looked over their shoulders, and then at me, and whispered something and laughed and I thought, They know. Even they could see it wasn't right for someone like me to have a boyfriend like him. "Feeling better?" Ethan asked, slinging his arm around my neck. The move was nothing unusual but seemed a little invasive, and I felt