Page 65 of Love Felt Like This

She laughs. “No, I get it. I do.”

“Let me read it.”

“No.” We both stop at the sharp word.

There’s tension now. I’m tired. She’s tired too. But whereas Beverly’s trying to overcome it, I’m failing miserably.

“I’m sorry,” I say, hoping to shore up some form of goodwill. “Things are…not coming out right this morning.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. And you know what? You just moved in. I shouldn’t have busted in and asked for music help so soon. I actually should get going.”

My shoulders stiffen. “You should?”

She throws a thumb over her shoulder. “I need to go take Rob to band practice anyway.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

She tilts her head to the side. “Why?”

“Because…” But I don’t come up with a word, and I think my brain idles.

This grants me a weak laugh. “You don’t have to always follow me places,” she says.

I refuse to leave the conversation like this.

“I promised I’d help,” I say by way of excuse. “And I will.”

“By coming with me and my brother to a high school?”

“I can’t write even if I wanted to right now,” I confess. “Let’s go, Ava.” Ava’s head pops up, cheeks stuffed with pancakes. “We’re going on a trip with B.”

Through a mouthful of pancake, Ava lets out a muffled “B! Go!”

Even though Beverly’s arms are crossed, I see a hint of a smile. Pretty pink lips. A small line in a corner. Eyes that shimmer. The tension in my arms melts down to my fingertips, making my hands feel tingly. I stretch them out and close them into fists.

I’ll work hard to get as many of those smiles as I can.

Chapter Eleven

The Magical Hands That Made Us

Beverly

If I had a dollar for every time Griffin blindly followed me places, I would have only three dollars. That couldn’t afford me a sewing kit in this economy…but it is nice.

I’m delirious; that’s the problem.

I barely slept after working all night, and when I told Rob that Griffin Harvey was riding with us, I swear he almost fainted. What kind of sister would I be if I denied him this?

I’m still stuck in my overnight thoughts as I drive the five short minutes to Elk Grove Public School. I consider childhood-development studies, education curriculum, and everything else I’m not qualified to create for the new season of Birds on the Block. I need actual professionals to help me with this show. But there’s no time. This is the hole I’ve dug for myself, and I will lie in it with Bernie Bird and the rest of the crew.

And Griffin.

“Griffin, you should come inside,” Rob says, turning so quickly his trombone case almost hits my knees. “My friends would absolutely freak—I mean, want to meet you.”

Griffin blinks. “Oh, uh—”

“We’re just gonna wait out here,” I chime in.