How We Deal With Gravity by Ginger Scott

Author:Ginger Scott [Scott, Ginger]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ginger Scott
Published: 2014-07-05T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12: Learning How to Do This

Avery

Everyone is looking at me like they all know. The girl in front of me in class kept turning around and smiling. I think she sensed my mood—I feel ridiculous that I thought last night was anything more than it was.

Before I woke up this morning, alone in Mason’s bed, I was dreaming. My subconscious actually went to the place where Mason and I are some happy couple, moving into our first house together, picking up Max from school together, going to the grocery store together. Then I woke up—alone. He didn’t even leave a note.

I thought about calling him. I programmed his number from my dad’s phone when I left this morning to take Max to school. I thought about calling him all the way to my class. Then I thought about calling him during my drive back to Max’s school. I’m still fuming, and the closer we get to Dusty’s, the more I want to take one of those golf clubs to his headlights—and then his head.

“Is Mason going to be at Grandpa’s?” Max asks from the backseat. His question has me so baffled—I almost drive off the road. Max doesn’t look forward to people. He looks forward to earning things, like game time or his next chocolate milk. He’s never once asked about seeing his grandpa or Claire. Why Mason? And of all days to ask, I swear he’s intuitive.

“I don’t know, Max. I think he has rehearsal with his band,” I say, secretly hoping Mason’s car is in the lot when we pull in—for Max’s sake, of course.

Max doesn’t respond, but instead, continues to move his finger around the iPad in the backseat. I’ve gotten used to the one-sided conversations with Max—once he gets the information he’s looking for, he’s done. It’s something we’re working on, closing out conversations and taking an interest in what other people have to say. I tell myself that’s why I’m about to ask him the question I’m about to ask.

“Why do you want to see Mason?” I ask, my eyes darting around the parking lot as we pull in. His car isn’t here. Damn.

Max doesn’t answer, which isn’t anything unusual, except usually he’s not answering my question about how he enjoyed class, or therapy, or a visit with one of his doctors. And I should care about those answers more than I do this one—but I don’t.

When I park, I take off my seatbelt and turn completely around in my seat so I can face Max. “Did you hear me, Max?” I ask, his eyes moving rapidly around the surface of the iPad, his body language completely tuning me out.

I put my hand on the screen to distract him, and he jerks it away, continuing to play whatever game he’s working on. I am walking a fine line right now, and I know I could have kicking and screaming in seconds if I’m not careful; I reach again for the iPad. I don’t block

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