Emmy & Oliver by Benway Robin

Author:Benway,Robin
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: HarperTeen

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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“Guess who’s invited us over for dinner next week!” my mom said the second I walked in through the back door on Saturday. It was lunchtime, at least I thought it was. We had all—me, Caro, Heather, Heather’s bedbugs—slept late the next morning, then Caro’s oldest brother, Michael, made blueberry pancakes, which we ate while watching cartoons. The fact that we were hungover went unsaid, but the pancakes and coffee had helped.

A little.

“Who?” I said, wincing at her too-perky tone. “The queen? Do I get to wear a tiara?”

“You’re always so cranky after you sleep over at Caro’s,” my mom replied. “What time did you go to bed last night?”

I shrugged. “Dunno. Two?”

“That is WAY too late,” she said. “Caro’s parents are okay with that?”

I shrugged again as my dad strolled into the room. “What’s too late?” he asked.

“She stays up way too late when she goes over to Caroline’s house,” my mom informed him.

“All we did was watch movies,” I said. “It’s like sleeping with your eyes open. And it’s rude to talk about someone like they’re not there.” I reached for a banana out of the fruit bowl. “Manners matter.”

Both of my parents gave me a Look. “What, exactly, are you learning at school?” my dad said, shaking his head. “My tax dollars at work, I swear.”

“Our tax dollars,” my mom corrected him. “Promise me you’ll take a nap later today, okay?”

“Twist my arm,” I replied, not bothering to mention that taking a nap was already on my Short List of Priorities that day.

And so was talking to Oliver.

I had checked my phone the minute I woke up, waiting to see a text or missed call or something from him, but I just had junk emails from SAT prep programs and a few “Don’t you want to apply HERE?” colleges. (Those colleges were like clingy boyfriends or girlfriends. No one wants to go to school there when they’re so desperate to get people to do just that. They needed to start playing hard to get, I thought, or no one was going to ask them to prom.)

I had deleted everything, but Heather caught me checking my phone three separate times at breakfast. “No word from Lover Boy?” she asked around a mouthful of syrup and blueberries, which was exactly as attractive as it sounds.

Caro, however, dropped her fork. “Who?” she asked me. “Who’s she talking about?”

Michael flipped another pancake at the stove, the sudden sizzling sound reminding me of an old torture technique. “Can we, um . . . ?” I nodded my head in the direction of Caro’s siblings.

Caro didn’t need to be told twice. She grabbed our plates, napkins, and silverware. “Get the syrup!” she called to me as she ran upstairs, and since I happen to love both syrup and Caro, I obeyed.

“Are we seriously going to eat in your room?” I asked as I ran up the stairs after her.

“What? No! Are you insane?” She beckoned me into the bathroom, then shut the door behind us.

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