anyone.”
His eyes meet mine. “Can you do that?”
Why is that everyone’s first reaction?
I lift my chin. “No, I can’t do that, but I did. And I couldn’t ignore this, not when we’re on break from school and Ethan’s soclose.” Kyle’s undoubtedly about to disagree with my “so close” comment, so I jump in first. “I thought it would be cool to see him. And I thought you might think so, too.”
His eyebrows slant up in that way they do. “This is the email?” he asks, nodding at my hand. When I tell him it is, he reaches for it.
Suddenly, there’s too little air in here, so I open my door and wait outside. According to the dashboard, it’s sixty-four degrees out, but it feels warmer—anything feels warmer than Bend in February.
The back door of the theater is in clear view. Ethan’s probably already inside getting ready for his performance. I don’t know what he looks like. His mom may have sent the Montiels photos, but I couldn’t risk getting caught to search for them last night. Does he look different than he did before getting part of Ashlyn?
I fight every impulse to spy on Kyle. He deserves his privacy, but the longer he takes, the more likely he is to peel out and strand me here.
Finally, after an endless few minutes, Kyle’s door slams shut. He comes closer, but stops before reaching my side of the car. He’s not veiny or panting or anything, but he seems . . . shattered. Not completely, but something about him has definitely cracked. His face is flushed and his gaze is far away, as if he’s about to cry or already has. Regret and empathy seesaw inside me. I’ve had only one day more of knowing about the recipients, but I’ve been able to box up thoughts of them. Organizing them in a way I can deal with. Kyle’s different.How else did I expect him to react?
“This is for real,” he says, squinting.
I nod. “Are you all right?”
His mouth is open, like he’s rearranging the words in his mouth. “Yeah. I am. And this kid with Ashlyn’s—Ethan. He’s here?” Kyle gives his head a slight shake and gestures behind me. “In there?”
“You read that he’s playing Sneezy, right? And the play completely sucks—we did it in second grade—but his mom sounds pretty optimistic about it.”
His cap is off, and his blond hair picks up whatever light the early evening sun has left. I notice the email, all folded up, clenched between his fingers. “So this whole trip is about Ethan.”
“Partly,” I say, wishing I could see his eyes. “There are others nearby. But I wasn’t going to tell you that until later.”
“That’s why you brought a duffel bag. You packed for longer than a day.”
I bite my lip. “I packed for the possibility of longer than a day.”
“And this is why you asked me to take you, not your friends. Because—”
“Don’t be stupid; you know why I asked you.” I have to say it before he babbles out the truth—that he’s falling into a rut again. That Matty’s right: Kyle’s sadness is so obvious, and that’s why I’m going this far to help him. “It wouldn’t mean the same thing to someone else. Plus, my car really couldn’t have made it.”
Kyle lifts his arms, placing his hands on his head, and whenhis eyes do meet mine, his expression changes, opens. “We basically drove seven hours to spy on a ten-year-old.”
“Don’t you want to see what he’s like?”
He sighs deeply, staring at the theater. “The play really sucks?”
“YOU’LL GET KICKED out,” I tell him.
“No, I won’t.” Kyle is trailing behind me on the path to the entrance. He’s walking so slowly , and gripping my duffel bag in one hand.
“Then arrested for animal cruelty, probably.”
“I’m not leaving her alone in a car for two hours, so what I’m doing is the opposite of cruel.”
I tried convincing him that Arm would be fine in the car—the temperature’s comfortable enough and we could’ve cracked a window for extra airflow. He
His eyes meet mine. “Can you do that?”
Why is that everyone’s first reaction?
I lift my chin. “No, I can’t do that, but I did. And I couldn’t ignore this, not when we’re on break from school and Ethan’s soclose.” Kyle’s undoubtedly about to disagree with my “so close” comment, so I jump in first. “I thought it would be cool to see him. And I thought you might think so, too.”
His eyebrows slant up in that way they do. “This is the email?” he asks, nodding at my hand. When I tell him it is, he reaches for it.
Suddenly, there’s too little air in here, so I open my door and wait outside. According to the dashboard, it’s sixty-four degrees out, but it feels warmer—anything feels warmer than Bend in February.
The back door of the theater is in clear view. Ethan’s probably already inside getting ready for his performance. I don’t know what he looks like. His mom may have sent the Montiels photos, but I couldn’t risk getting caught to search for them last night. Does he look different than he did before getting part of Ashlyn?
I fight every impulse to spy on Kyle. He deserves his privacy, but the longer he takes, the more likely he is to peel out and strand me here.
Finally, after an endless few minutes, Kyle’s door slams shut. He comes closer, but stops before reaching my side of the car. He’s not veiny or panting or anything, but he seems . . . shattered. Not completely, but something about him has definitely cracked. His face is flushed and his gaze is far away, as if he’s about to cry or already has. Regret and empathy seesaw inside me. I’ve had only one day more of knowing about the recipients, but I’ve been able to box up thoughts of them. Organizing them in a way I can deal with. Kyle’s different.How else did I expect him to react?
“This is for real,” he says, squinting.
I nod. “Are you all right?”
His mouth is open, like he’s rearranging the words in his mouth. “Yeah. I am. And this kid with Ashlyn’s—Ethan. He’s here?” Kyle gives his head a slight shake and gestures behind me. “In there?”
“You read that he’s playing Sneezy, right? And the play completely sucks—we did it in second grade—but his mom sounds pretty optimistic about it.”
His cap is off, and his blond hair picks up whatever light the early evening sun has left. I notice the email, all folded up, clenched between his fingers. “So this whole trip is about Ethan.”
“Partly,” I say, wishing I could see his eyes. “There are others nearby. But I wasn’t going to tell you that until later.”
“That’s why you brought a duffel bag. You packed for longer than a day.”
I bite my lip. “I packed for the possibility of longer than a day.”
“And this is why you asked me to take you, not your friends. Because—”
“Don’t be stupid; you know why I asked you.” I have to say it before he babbles out the truth—that he’s falling into a rut again. That Matty’s right: Kyle’s sadness is so obvious, and that’s why I’m going this far to help him. “It wouldn’t mean the same thing to someone else. Plus, my car really couldn’t have made it.”
Kyle lifts his arms, placing his hands on his head, and whenhis eyes do meet mine, his expression changes, opens. “We basically drove seven hours to spy on a ten-year-old.”
“Don’t you want to see what he’s like?”
He sighs deeply, staring at the theater. “The play really sucks?”
“YOU’LL GET KICKED out,” I tell him.
“No, I won’t.” Kyle is trailing behind me on the path to the entrance. He’s walking so slowly , and gripping my duffel bag in one hand.
“Then arrested for animal cruelty, probably.”
“I’m not leaving her alone in a car for two hours, so what I’m doing is the opposite of cruel.”
I tried convincing him that Arm would be fine in the car—the temperature’s comfortable enough and we could’ve cracked a window for extra airflow. He
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