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“Yes and special books with different fonts and stuff. Now he can read really good.”
“And you’ll help me?”
“Sure, but only if you don’t run away.”
“Okay.”
I jump up and wrap my arms around him and he laughs as he hugs me back.
“Come on, let’s go see if your mom made any of those millionaire shortbreads I like.”
She has. My mom loves Lincoln and Clark and Mrs. Coldwell, but she doesn’t like Mr. Coldwell. She never said it but I know, I can tell. She gets this look on her face that’s all pinched, like my math teacher on a Monday morning.
I glance at Lincoln, beside me and feel all warm. I hope we’re always friends and that he doesn’t ever leave me.
“Linc, when we get older, can I marry you?”
He walks beside me toward the kitchen. “Why?”
“Because then you won’t leave me.”
He scrunches his nose and I wait for him to answer me. “I’m not sure I want a wife, but if I do, I’ll pick you, okay?”
“Deal.”
I turn and hold out my pinkie to him. He links his with mine and squeezes gently.
“Now let’s go. Your first lesson starts after I get back from my piano lesson.”
“Urgh, do I have to?”
“Yes. You promised.”
I look at his serious face and hope he does change his mind about a wife. We could travel and find dinosaurs in my space ship and he could protect me and maybe we could take Clark too.
1: Lottie
“Vi, there’s a call for you.”
I pour the third cup of coffee for the suited man in my section and frown at Joe, the owner of the diner where I work in Central Park. Nerves pump through me, tightening my belly and I wonder how much of it is hunger and how much is good, old-fashioned stress. “Coming.”
I smile at the suit, hoping he’ll at least leave a decent tip for all the attention he keeps demanding and knowing he probably won’t. You learn to spot the type pretty quickly in this job, but I have to be nice, just in case. Money is tight, and I need every cent I can get.
Picking up the receiver of the phone, I brace for whatever is coming at me, and it will be something, it always is. “Hello.”
“Is this Violet Miller?”
“Yes.”
“This is Mrs. Cantrell from the Riverdale School.”
Anxiety tightens its hold on my chest and I struggle not to panic as I feel my heart begin to race like I’ve run a marathon. “Is Eric okay?”
“That’s why I’m calling. He had a hypoglycemic attack. I’ve called an ambulance and they’re taking him to Riverdale General.”
My vision tunnels as fear grips me tight. Eric is sick. I need to get to him. This is the mantra suddenly rattling around my brain on a loop as I try and remain outwardly calm. “I’m on my way.”
“Someone will stay with him until you arrive at the hospital.”
