Page 16 of The Last Thing You Said

“I have friends, Dad. Hannah is my friend.”

“She’s too loud.”

I roll my eyes and change the subject. “So why did you tell Shay Stanford she could work down at our patio?”

Dad shrugs. “I worked out a deal with Ron and Betty. Fifty bucks a week. We could use the extra cash.”

My stomach flips—I hate talking about money. I look at my dad. He needs a shave, his cheeks are hollow and there are dark circles under his eyes. He works at a plant that manufactures aluminum docks and boat lifts, but our lift sits empty. He sold the boat months ago, even though he’s been working double shifts and overtime. My uncle Daniel says we can borrow his boat anytime, but I can’t remember the last time Dad got out on the lake. Clayton’s tuition is expensive; costs of restaurant supplies have shot up. I know money’s tight.

When I don’t say anything, he continues. “You’ll be so busy this summer, you probably won’t even notice.”

Dad drops me off at the church. As he drives away my cell phone rings—the James Bond theme song. Clay.

“Hey,” he says.

“How’s the studying going?” I ask.

“Studying. Right. Good.” He sounds ragged and rough, like he’s got ashes in his mouth.

“Are you hungover? It’s two in the afternoon!”

He laughs. “Maybe a little bit.”

“I thought you were coming home for Mother’s Day. Guess you had a change of plans?”

“Yeah. I have a final Monday morning, so, you know, I’ve got to study.”

“Doesn’t sound like you were studying last night.”

Clayton laughs. “Oh, I was studying. Studying the Bud Light and the bootay.”

Seriously?

“Hey, did you know that Ron and Betty rented out their house this summer—”

Clayton interrupts. “Yeah, yeah, Dad told me. Listen, you gotta do me a favor. You gotta tell Mom and Dad that I’m not coming home this summer.”

“What?”

“Yeah, me and a couple of buddies are subleasing this guy’s house. Total party house. Just for the summer.”

“Since when?”

“Since a few days ago.”

“I’m pretty sure Mom’s counting on you to help out at the restaurant.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Besides, I sort of have to do some makeup work for this class I screwed up in, so I figured I would get caught up and party, too. Best of both worlds.”

“Best of both worlds for you, maybe.”

“What’s the big deal? Why do you care if I come home or not?”

“I don’t. It’s just—” But I do care. Everything’s different. Trixie’s gone, Ben’s gone, my first summer without them. No Betty and Ron, no pans of brownies and plates of peanut butter cookies. I can’t be without Clay, too. I can’t have any more different. I take a deep breath.

“You’ll be fine, Lucy. You’ll tell them for me, right?”

“Why should I?”