Counting Thyme by Melanie Conklin Page A

something?
    That’s when I noticed his earbuds were hanging from the collar of his jacket, like he’d just been listening to music on his way to school.
    â€œI listened to that song,” I said. “The one by Simon and Garfunkel.”
    He scuffed his boot against the floor. “Oh yeah? What did you think?”
    â€œIt was nice . . . but I thought it was weird, too, how they sang in those whisper voices.”
    As soon as I said it, I wished I could take it back. I didn’twant him to think I was making fun of him. It’s just that the song really was strange. Dad had played it for me twice.
    He nodded. “Me too,” he said, and I smiled with relief, which made me blush. It felt good to talk about a normal thing like music.
    â€œMy dad has their record,” I said. “He has a really big collection. I mean, too big to bring them all here. He had to leave a lot of them in storage when we moved.”
    â€œCool,” he said. “My grandma listens to their stuff all the time.”
    â€œDoes she live nearby?”
    â€œYou could say that,” he said. “I moved here this summer. We’re living with her now, just until we get back on our feet. Mom and me.” He looked less than happy when he said it, and I wondered what had knocked them off their feet. Then I realized that meant he was new, too. Which was nice. I was trying to think of what to say next when the late bell rang.
    â€œYou got invited to Emily’s party?” he asked, looking right at me all of a sudden.
    I felt a flutter in my stomach. “Yeah.”
    â€œMe too. Are you gonna go?”
    That’s when I made up my mind. “Yeah. I think I will.”
    He grinned. “Me too.”

16
    VIP

    OUR CAB PULLED UP OUTSIDE OF EMILY’S BUILDING ON East 92nd Street at six thirty, half an hour before the party was supposed to start. I wanted to avoid running into anyone else on the off chance that Dad would start blabbing about hospitals and cancer. At home, he’d given us a special poster to celebrate the beginning of winter break. It was a to-do list for all of us, with things like
sleep
,
eat good food
, and
family time
on it. The list part had made Mom smile. Cori had rolled her eyes. I guess Dad was just trying to make things easier while we waited for the results from Val’s blood test.
    â€œYou’re sure you don’t want me to go in with you?” Dad asked as a doorman approached the cab.
    â€œNo, I’m okay on my own.”
    He squeezed my hand. “I’ll see you at ten sharp, like we talked about. All right?”
    I leaned across the vinyl seat to hug him. “Thanks, Dad.”
    â€œHave fun, but not too much fun,” he said with a goofy look on his face. I think he was happier about the party than I was. He was the one who had always invited his old collegebuddies over for barbecues and football games, back when we still did that kind of thing.
    Amazingly, Mom hadn’t objected to me going alone. I think the fight with Cori had fried her wires. But it was Cori who had surprised me the most. As soon as she heard I was going to an actual party, with actual friends, she vetoed the sweater I was planning to wear and dragged me into our room to look through her clothes, which were all colorful and flashy, like her. I was afraid she would make fun of me for being lame or tell me I should be super grateful for her help, but she just pulled a pretty pink dress from the closet and held it up.
    â€œYou’re taller than I was when I wore this to Cousin Marisa’s wedding. Do you remember that? It rained for hours, and we had to hide under that big white tent in her backyard. When they cut the cake, Val wouldn’t come out from under the table. He said it was his fort.” She stopped talking, and her eyes got far away. I wondered if some small part of her missed being normal, too.
    â€œYou know what?” she said, blinking