Traveler, L.E. DeLano [book series for 12 year olds .TXT] 📗

“The coffee date, stupid. What’s her name, anyway?”

“Oh, the date,” he remembers. “Didn’t happen. My truck broke down on the way home from school, and Dad had his car at work.”

“Better luck next time,” I say.

“Right. So what were y’all doing, anyway?” he asks. “Danny said he was up a tree with your new boyfriend.”

“My new … Danny said that?” That’s not like Danny. He probably considers Finn to be more his friend than mine. They were climbing trees together, after all.

“Well, is he?” Ben doesn’t realize he’s squeezing my hand as hard as he is. I give it a tug, and he releases me.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “None of my business.”

“No, it’s okay. Finn’s just a friend.” I can’t quite meet his eyes.

“Yeah. There’s a lot of that going around,” he mumbles. “Do you know anything about the person who almost hit you? Did you see who it was or anything?”

“There wasn’t time. It all happened so fast.”

“What about your friend?” He overemphasizes the word.

“Not that I know of. Maybe that’s where he went—down to the police station or something.”

“I told Finn to go home and clean up—he was soaked,” my mother says, reentering the room. “He wants you to text him when you feel up to it. He’s a nice guy. How come I haven’t seen him around before?”

“We just met last week.”

“Your brother certainly likes him.” She slides a tray onto the bedside table, then turns the table to pull it across me. “Danny’s pretty upset by all of this. I sent him down to the cafeteria to get ice cream.”

“Well, I’m not too thrilled about this, either,” I reply, raising my eyebrows.

“I know, sweetie. Here, try the soup. They said if your head isn’t hurting, you can go home sometime tomorrow.”

“When can I go back to school? I have a paper due.”

“I’ll call the school,” she reassures me. “I’m sure Ben can turn in your work for you. The doctor wants you home until next week. Your dad and I are switching weekends so you don’t have to be moved unnecessarily.”

“Great.” I sigh, trying to shift myself upright more so I can eat. Mom puffs up the pillow and slides it behind me, but it jostles my shoulder and I let out a groan.

“I think you’re due for your medicine,” she says with a frown. “They said it’s better with food in your stomach. Let me go get the nurse.”

She steps back out into the hallway, and I reach clumsily for the spoon and end up knocking it off the tray. Ben picks it up off the covers and puts it in my good hand.

“Do you need me to spoon-feed you?” he asks.

“I’m not that bad off,” I say. “Just groggy.”

“So what grade is Finn in?” he asks me nonchalantly, while he opens a pack of crackers.

“I’m not sure,” I hedge, and really, it’s the truth. “I just met him. He doesn’t go to school here.”

“Where’d you meet him?” he asks, raising a cracker to my lips. I turn my head away.

“I don’t think I can eat that,” I say with a grimace. “My throat feels like I swallowed rocks.”

“You might have,” he says, popping the cracker into his own mouth. He finishes chewing and looks at me thoughtfully.

“So … he’s from Manortown? Or someplace else?”

He’s not going to let up, and I really am not mentally up for creating a backstory. I push the tray with the soup away and close my eyes.

“I don’t know, Ben,” I say. “I just met him. And I’m really tired and everything hurts.”

“Sorry.” He sounds chagrined. “Just looking out for you, St. Clair. Somebody’s got to do it.”

I don’t have the heart to tell him the position is already taken.

19

Family

The next two days go by in a blur of pain, then pain medication, then sleep. At least it was my left arm that caught the brunt of it. I can still type one-handed, so I do. I finish Ms. Eversor’s ghost assignment. My mom dropped it by the school and returned with homework for English lit. My calculus homework sits on top of the pile by my bed, but I can’t bring myself to do it yet.

Luckily, my phone somehow landed on the bridge and didn’t get run over by the psychopath in the car, so I can at least play some games and surf the Internet. Mom is adamant about me not having visitors for a few days, so I’m starting to get really bored now that I’m awake more. It’s only Wednesday and she wants me “quiet and resting” until Friday. My left shoulder is a sickly purple and green, and I can’t move it much. We’ve cut back the medication, and now I’m only taking it at night, since my shoulder stiffens up while I sleep.

I finally get tired of lying in bed. I run a brush through my hair and walk downstairs in search of food.

“Danny, I mean it,” my mother’s voice warns from the kitchen. “You need to calm down.”

I walk into the family room to see Danny standing with his hands in tight fists, making a face at my mother’s back.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Danny doesn’t want chicken,” Mom answers, running a hand across the back of her neck. “And I thought we had more macaroni, but we’re out.”

“I want macaRONI!” Danny shouts.

“We don’t have any right now. I have to go to the store,” my mom tries to explain, for what’s probably the fifth or sixth time. She looks tired, and I realize very suddenly that she probably is.

“Hey, Danny,” I say. “What if I make you a grilled cheese?”

“I want macaroni!” he repeats, refusing to budge an inch. Time to break out the psychological warfare.

“Fine. I’m going to make myself a grilled cheese and you don’t get to have one.” I stick my nose up in the air, and I walk toward the kitchen.

“No!” He tries to stop me. “I want a grilled cheese.”

“I don’t know…,” I say, as if I’m considering