Sunkissed, Kasie West [best authors to read TXT] 📗

mouth and braced myself on the stall wall with my other hand.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, pumping the paper towel dispenser. “Can I get you a Sprite or something?”

“No, I think I’m better.”

He turned the water on and then off and then he squeezed into the stall with me, pressing a cold paper towel against the back of my neck.

“You don’t have to take care of me, Brooks. I can do this.” I took over holding the paper towel. “I’m sorry I sucked in there.”

“You didn’t suck. You did really well. I’m proud of you.”

I rolled my eyes and left the stall. At the sink, I rewet the paper towel and used it to wipe at some mascara below my eyes. Then I rinsed my mouth with water and spit it out.

“Avery,” Brooks said. “Going from having never sung a solo for an audience before in your life to what you did out there just now is amazing.”

I sighed. “I might be happier if it was just about getting through it, but it’s about more than that.” I realized in that moment that even though I’d told Maricela and Tia I wanted to lose so it would all be over, I really didn’t. I wanted to get past today, and that thought scared me because I wasn’t sure we would.

The door opened and a girl walked in, looked between me and Brooks, and then shut herself in the farthest stall.

Brooks exited the bathroom fast. I washed my hands and followed him out.

“Let’s find a vending machine,” he said when I joined him. I was too tired to think of a better idea. We found one in a back hall and sat in that same hall with our purchases, our backs leaned against the wall, shoulders touching.

“It’s weird not to have to worry about getting caught together,” I said.

“Good weird?” he asked.

“Yes.” I felt my eyes getting heavy. My lack of sleep was catching up with me. “So good.”

“You should lie down,” he said. “We have time.”

“I’ll just rest my eyes for a bit.” I pulled my backpack close and used it as a pillow.

When I was nearly asleep, I felt a soft touch on my hair. “I don’t resent my dad.”

I was way too tired to try to read into what prompted him to say that, so I said, “That’s good.”

“Sometimes taking care of him can feel overwhelming but only because it’s completely one-sided. But even then, he’s my dad.”

What I said in the bathroom came back to me. I rolled onto my back and looked up at him. “I know, Brooks. I was just feeling stupid. It wasn’t about you, I promise.”

He smirked. “So next time you barf, you’ll let me hold your hair?”

“Let’s hope there isn’t a next time.”

“Avery, you’re cheating,” Brooks said, even-toned.

I’d slept for at least an hour and now we were sitting in a mostly empty hall off the holding room. His guitar case served as our table as we sat cross-legged on either side of it. Our vending machine wrappers littered the floor around us.

“I’m not.”

“You’re discarding your cards toward yourself so that you know what you’re going to put down. You have to do it facing away.”

“But then you’ll see what I’m putting down.”

“If we do it at the same time, the same way, it won’t matter. Haven’t you ever played slapjack before?”

“Yes, I’m the slapjack champion.”

“Now you know why. Because you cheat.”

I gave an overly dramatic gasp. “You’re just a sore loser.”

“I am the most un-sore loser I know. I am happy to lose.”

“Happy to lose?”

“Ask my brother. I let him win all the time.”

“If he knows you let him win, then you’re not really letting him win, are you?”

“Well, he doesn’t know. He’ll just tell you he wins, and you’ll realize it’s because I let him.”

“Is that what’s happening here?” I held up my fat stack of cards.

“No, you’re cheating.”

I laughed. “Fine, I will ask your brother when we are both back home.”

“Good, then you’ll know. I am the most gracious of game players.”

“So humble, Your Graciousness.”

He laughed, then slid the card in his hand forward. “Should we finish?”

I readied my card and as I put it down, I saw it was a queen going on top of his queen. Huh, he was right. I was seeing the match a second before him. I slapped my hand on top of the pair. His hand went on top of mine almost immediately.

“Do you really think this stack belongs to you?” he asked, not taking his hand off mine. There was a smile in his eyes.

“Yes, it belongs to me.” I let my eyes drop to our hands before they went back to his eyes. “Even though I may have cheated.”

He lifted his hand. “It’s probably good you gave yourself a head start because you are about to go down.”

A group at the end of the hall closer to the holding room got up in a rush. “It’s time!” one of them called back to us.

“I guess we’ll never know if you would’ve beat me or not,” I said.

“I think we both know.” He stood, gathered our trash, and discarded it in a nearby bin. Then he looked at me. There was a guarded anticipation in his eyes.

“You better keep that hope bottled up,” I whispered. “I can see it in there, wanting to come out.”

“I’m just nervous.”

I shook his shoulder. “Stop. That’s my job.”

As we walked, his guitar case between us, he said, “I’ve decided you’re not much better at pep talks than I am.”

“It’s too late for a pep talk. We no longer have any control.” I said that last part in a scary ghost voice.

“You’re a huge dork, Avery Young,” he said.

“I know.”

When we got to the holding room, there was a long line at the door where Clipboard Man had been before.

“What’s going on?” Brooks asked the guy at the back of the line.

“They’re taking groups of ten in and telling them their