Summer of the Geek by Piper Banks Page B

want them to get divorced. Richard is way nicer than any of the guys my mom dated before she married him. You don’t want them to break up, do you?”
    I wasn’t so sure. Peyton had always treated me like the ugly stepchild. Then again, I wanted my dad to be happy. And the constant fighting and door slamming was wearing on my nerves.
    “How could we help them?” I asked doubtfully.
    “I don’t know,” Hannah admitted. “Maybe we could arrange a romantic dinner for them.”
    I shook my head. “I think they need a marriage counselor more than a romantic dinner.”
    “Really?” Hannah asked interestedly. “Would that work?”
    “My parents went to marriage counseling when they started to fight like this. They still got divorced, obviously. But, yeah, they were getting along better for a while,” I said.
    “Tiff ’s and Brit’s mom is a therapist. I wonder if she does marriage therapy,” Hannah mused.
    “I don’t think you should get involved,” I cautioned. “It’s really none of our business.”
    “None of our business? We have to live with them fighting all the time. It’s very stressful,” Hannah said.
    “That’s true,” I agreed.
    “And everyone knows that stress is terrible for your skin. And if I’m going to model, I can’t risk getting zits,” Hannah said.
    I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Hannah really was pathologically narcissistic.
    Hannah’s cell phone began ringing. She glanced at the caller ID. “Oh, good, it’s Tiff. I’ll ask her if her mom counsels married couples. If so, I’ll make an appointment for my mom and Richard.”
    “I really don’t think you should,” I began, but Hannah already had the phone pressed to her ear.
    “Hey, you,” she said into the phone. “What sort of therapy does your mom do? Only kids? Really? So she doesn’t do, like, couples counseling?” There was a pause, and then Hannah laughed. “No, not for me and Emmett. My mom and stepdad.” Another pause. Hannah suddenly brightened. “Yeah, definitely ask her for a referral.”
    Hannah gave me a thumbs-up.
    “Don’t you think—” I began again.
    But before I could convince her to mind her own business, Hannah turned and walked into her room, still talking on her phone. “New York was amazing. Wait until you see my new portfolio. It’s amazing! You’re going to freak out.”
    Hannah closed the door behind her with a click.

Chapter Twelve
    “H ello, Miranda,” Mrs. Fisher said when she opened the door. Today, she was wearing a pink button-down shirt, black capri pants, and black flats with shiny white patent toes.
    It was Monday morning, and I was hopeful that my second week taking care of Amelia would go smoother than the first. It seemed like she’d started to thaw out a bit by the end of our bowling excursion. Either that, or I was finally wearing her down with my charm offensive.
    “Hi, Mrs. Fisher,” I said, stepping into the house. Something seemed a bit off. Then I realized what it was: It was too quiet. For the first time, Amelia wasn’t at her piano when I arrived.
    “Where’s Amelia?” I asked.
    “I asked her to wait upstairs for a few minutes so I could have a chance to talk to you alone,” Mrs. Fisher said. Her expression was pleasant, but I suddenly had the feeling that I was in trouble.
    “Did I do something wrong?” I asked nervously.
    “No, no, of course not. Why don’t we sit down for a moment?” Mrs. Fisher said, gesturing toward the cluttered living room. I perched uncomfortably on the seat of a wing chair.
    Mrs. Fisher sat on the sofa, and smiled at me. “You don’t have to look so worried, Miranda. You’re not in trouble. I just wanted to talk to you about how you and Amelia are spending your days. She told me you took her bowling on Friday.”
    “She wasn’t really big on the idea at first, but once we played a few games, I think she had fun,” I said.
    “Amelia said that you were at the bowling alley for such a long time that she had