Carry the Ocean: The Roosevelt, Book 1 by Heidi Cullinan Page B

myself stop. I pulled away from her and made an angry face instead. “Mom, get off me.”
    She blocked the door with her body. “Honey, you can’t go over there right now. You can be angry with me, but you cannot go to the Samsons’ house. It’s not safe for you. Mrs. Samson is very angry.”
    “Mrs. Samson is a bitch , Mom.”
    She made her lips flat, which means she didn’t like what I said, but she didn’t tell me it was rude not to say it. Because she knew I was right.
    She shut her eyes and let out a slow breath. “You can’t go over. We’ll talk about this later, but right now I need to speak with your father.”
    “ I need to speak with my boyfriend. I’m an adult, Mom. Stop treating me like a baby.”
    We argued for fifteen minutes, but I’m sorry to say I didn’t win. I didn’t hit, or hum, or have an episode, but in the end I still went to my room. I whaled on my bed with the foam hammer and said bad words about Mrs. Samson, loud enough they had to hear me downstairs, but nobody came up to tell me I had to stop. I called my mom a few bad names too, but it made me feel uncomfortable, so I quit.
    My mom might be bossy, but she’s not a bitch like Gabrielle Samson.
    When I calmed down, I tried to decide what to do. All I could think about was that I needed to check on Jeremey, but they’d catch me going out the front or the back door in the house. Also, probably they were right. If I went to Jeremey’s house, his parents would stop me from seeing him.
    If he still had his phone, though, I could call him, or text.
    I texted. His parents wouldn’t hear if he had the sound muted, which he usually does.
    Jeremey, this is Emmet. I am worried about you. I’m worried you’re upset. I want to help you, but my aunt and parents are being strange. Please tell me if you are okay and how I can help you. If I can help you.
    After only a few minutes he replied. Except I could tell by the way he answered something was wrong.
    am v ovrwhlmed
    Sometimes Jeremey is sloppy about spelling and punctuation, but never that bad. Usually he lies and says he’s okay too, but today he admitted he felt bad. I didn’t know what to do.
    I want to help you. Can I come over?
    His reply was quick, and it made me sad.
    no bcuse mom
    I felt sad. No, because Mom.
    If I shut my eyes, I could see him on his bed, lying under the covers using all his energy just to push the buttons. Even if we used the phone, speaking would be hard. Plus, his mom would hear.
    I was angry with Jeremey’s mom. My brain octopus was furious, and I wanted to give in and be angry, but I pushed it aside. Anger wasn’t important right now. Jeremey was.
    Do you want me to keep talking to you? I know it’s hard for you to type back, but do you want to keep texting? You can type Y or N.
    It took a few seconds, but he typed y .
    I relaxed and sat cross-legged on the floor on my thinking cushion. I wished I could use a keyboard—then it occurred to me that if I hooked my wireless keyboard up to my phone with Bluetooth, I could. Excited, I typed brb —that’s shorthand for be right back —and I set myself up, with my keyboard on a board on my lap and my phone propped up on a bookshelf. Then I started to type.
    Sorry, it took longer to get ready than I meant it to. I set my keyboard up with my phone, so I can type fast. But I have a question. I want to ask you some things, but are you too overwhelmed to answer? I can maybe make them yes/no questions, but I don’t want to make you talk if your depression is feeling loud right now. So here is my first question: can I ask you some questions?
    y
    I smiled and started typing again. I’m glad. But let’s make a code. Y is yes and N is no. D is done, meaning you want to be done talking. If you do that, I will say goodbye and text you later. If I ask something you don’t want to answer, say X. If I make you angry, type A, and I will apologize. Does that sound okay?
    It took him a few minutes to answer, and when I