scooting it back a bit. Well out of arm’s reach. “
If
I take my vows. I told you, I’m still waiting for my sign.”
“You’re gonna do it,” I said stubbornly. Picking up my sandwich, I pointed it at him. “If you don’t, I’ll kick your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week. And then I’ll do it again, and again, till you get your head on straight.”
He choked on a laugh and picked up his own sandwich. Awkwardness? Avoided. “I’d like to see you try, little Gallagher.”
That’s what all the teachers back home had called me. They hadn’t bothered to learn my name, because I was Mikey’s little sister, so they’d all assumed I was trouble before I even walked into the room. “Don’t underestimate me. I’m tougher than I look.” I took a big bite of my sandwich and chewed slowly, eyeing him the whole time. “I was taught well.”
Shaking his head, he smiled sadly. “I know that. Always have.”
“Glad to hear it.” I finished off the last bite of the first half of my sandwich and swallowed hard. “Now answer my question.”
He chewed quickly, then said, “I’m not sure. There were whispers of uptown Chicago.” He tugged on his collar. “Or…maybe a suburb about an hour and a half from here. But if I went there, then I could still visit sometimes.”
That’s so far away.
Too far away
. “Wow. Suburbs, huh?”
“Yeah.” He locked eyes with me. “I’d still see you.”
No. He wouldn’t. I knew how life works, and how friends drift apart when distance is inserted between them. He’d be too busy. I’d move on, and so would he. But I wouldn’t burst his bubble if he chose to float in it. I whistled through my teeth, ignoring his assurances. “I think I would die of boredom all the way out there. There’s no nightlife. Nothing fun to do.
You
would probably love it, though.”
He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m boring?”
“No. But I think you’re not going to be clubbing or roaming bars looking for your next chick as a priest.” I raised my brows. “Am I wrong?”
He cleared his throat. “Of course not.”
“Therefore, it would be good for you.”
“I guess,” he muttered, frowning at his sandwich again. He’d only taken two small bites, and I was on my second half. “Your turn.”
“For what?”
“Answer my question.” He leaned in, examining me as if he was seeking out all my thoughts and secrets. “If you had a way out, would you take it?”
“Of course. I’m not stupid.” I turned away from him. “But I don’t, and I won’t. Not right now, anyway. So I’ve adjusted my expectations.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” he said, his tone hard.
“Yeah, well, news flash: not all people get to live out their dreams. Some of us just have to make do with what we can get, or take, or steal, and that’s fine.” I held on to the edge of the granite counter that probably cost more than I made all yearlong. “But I stopped stealing years ago, so now I’m just fighting for my fair share. I’ll be fine with living in Englewood, as long as it’s on my terms. I can work with that. That’s a reasonable dream.”
He took a deep breath, held it in, and released it in a slow, exaggerated breath. “I think you missed the memo—dreams aren’t supposed to be realistic or reasonable. They’re supposed to be
dreams
.”
“I didn’t miss the memo. I grew up and realized I wasn’t a fairy-tale princess, and I wasn’t going to live happily ever after with some prince who will never hurt me. I realized that more than likely, I would live kind-of-happily-for-now—with or without a guy, because who the hell says a girl needs a guy to be happy—and that’s okay.”
Growling, he set his sandwich down. “Being hungry, having no one to help you, is not
okay
. Having no one there to save you is not okay, either. But that ends now. I want to help you by—”
“Hold up.” I tossed my food onto the plate angrily.
If
I take my vows. I told you, I’m still waiting for my sign.”
“You’re gonna do it,” I said stubbornly. Picking up my sandwich, I pointed it at him. “If you don’t, I’ll kick your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week. And then I’ll do it again, and again, till you get your head on straight.”
He choked on a laugh and picked up his own sandwich. Awkwardness? Avoided. “I’d like to see you try, little Gallagher.”
That’s what all the teachers back home had called me. They hadn’t bothered to learn my name, because I was Mikey’s little sister, so they’d all assumed I was trouble before I even walked into the room. “Don’t underestimate me. I’m tougher than I look.” I took a big bite of my sandwich and chewed slowly, eyeing him the whole time. “I was taught well.”
Shaking his head, he smiled sadly. “I know that. Always have.”
“Glad to hear it.” I finished off the last bite of the first half of my sandwich and swallowed hard. “Now answer my question.”
He chewed quickly, then said, “I’m not sure. There were whispers of uptown Chicago.” He tugged on his collar. “Or…maybe a suburb about an hour and a half from here. But if I went there, then I could still visit sometimes.”
That’s so far away.
Too far away
. “Wow. Suburbs, huh?”
“Yeah.” He locked eyes with me. “I’d still see you.”
No. He wouldn’t. I knew how life works, and how friends drift apart when distance is inserted between them. He’d be too busy. I’d move on, and so would he. But I wouldn’t burst his bubble if he chose to float in it. I whistled through my teeth, ignoring his assurances. “I think I would die of boredom all the way out there. There’s no nightlife. Nothing fun to do.
You
would probably love it, though.”
He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m boring?”
“No. But I think you’re not going to be clubbing or roaming bars looking for your next chick as a priest.” I raised my brows. “Am I wrong?”
He cleared his throat. “Of course not.”
“Therefore, it would be good for you.”
“I guess,” he muttered, frowning at his sandwich again. He’d only taken two small bites, and I was on my second half. “Your turn.”
“For what?”
“Answer my question.” He leaned in, examining me as if he was seeking out all my thoughts and secrets. “If you had a way out, would you take it?”
“Of course. I’m not stupid.” I turned away from him. “But I don’t, and I won’t. Not right now, anyway. So I’ve adjusted my expectations.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” he said, his tone hard.
“Yeah, well, news flash: not all people get to live out their dreams. Some of us just have to make do with what we can get, or take, or steal, and that’s fine.” I held on to the edge of the granite counter that probably cost more than I made all yearlong. “But I stopped stealing years ago, so now I’m just fighting for my fair share. I’ll be fine with living in Englewood, as long as it’s on my terms. I can work with that. That’s a reasonable dream.”
He took a deep breath, held it in, and released it in a slow, exaggerated breath. “I think you missed the memo—dreams aren’t supposed to be realistic or reasonable. They’re supposed to be
dreams
.”
“I didn’t miss the memo. I grew up and realized I wasn’t a fairy-tale princess, and I wasn’t going to live happily ever after with some prince who will never hurt me. I realized that more than likely, I would live kind-of-happily-for-now—with or without a guy, because who the hell says a girl needs a guy to be happy—and that’s okay.”
Growling, he set his sandwich down. “Being hungry, having no one to help you, is not
okay
. Having no one there to save you is not okay, either. But that ends now. I want to help you by—”
“Hold up.” I tossed my food onto the plate angrily.
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