Jackpot by Nic Stone

Author:Nic Stone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2019-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

For days, the Ethel Streeter visitor card is my constant companion. In fact, I take it out and look at it so often, I manage to memorize the PO address.

Except I can’t seem to do anything with it. Every time I work up the courage to sit down at a computer for a quick Google search, my fingers freeze just before making contact with the keyboard.

I dunno what it is, but all of a sudden, the thought of pursuing a lead behind Zan’s back feels…wrong.

Oddly enough, I also can’t bring myself to loop him in.

He’s constantly on my mind now. Even invades my dreams. In fact, I’m slowly waking from one where he’s standing in front of me without clothing when he opens his mouth to speak and “Ricoooooo!” comes out in a voice that doesn’t really sound like his own.

It’s weird.

“Uhh…Macklin?”

He bends at the knee and leaps into the air. Comes down on top of me and knocks all the breath out of my body.

Eyes are open now.

Jax is climbing off me and running around the end of the bed to climb up and jump on me again.

“Ricoooooo!” he shouts. And then he leaps.

Oooof!

It’s still dark outside.

“Jaxy, what the hell?” I toss him to the floor.

He hops up, unfazed. Climbs back to his starting position but begins jumping on my bed with me in it. “You said hell!”

“SO did YOU, dimWIT.” Gah! “PLEASE stop JUMping ON my BED now!”

It’s like he doesn’t even hear me. “You were talking about Zan-Zan in your sleep.”

Oh boy. “What?”

“Is he your boyfriend now?”

“No!” I roll over so he won’t see the mortification all over my face.

“I bet you were having wet dreams about him.”

Umm…I sit up. “What the heck do you know about wet dreams?”

He hops off the bed and rolls his eyes. “They’re dreams where you’re doing it with somebody, duh. Mason’s big brother has them all the time and he pees out sticky stuff in the bed, so that’s why they’re called wet.”

Heaven help me. I don’t even know how to respond to that.

He grabs my arm and pulls. “Come on. Get up! We have to make the special French toast for Mommy before she wakes up!”

“Huh?”

“The. French. TOAST. For Mommy!”

Oh crap. “What day is it?”

“Friday!” He throws his hands up like I’m the biggest idiot to ever exist.

“No, knucklehead. What date?”

“Two twenty-twooooooo!”

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

It’s Mama’s birthday.

I totally forgot about it.

Jax can see it all over my face too. His little jaw slowly unhinges. “You forgot?”

And shit.

I jump up and scramble to pull my sweatpants back on (apparently kicked them off in the night when I was dreaming about Zan-Zan…ugh). “What are you waiting for?” I say to Jax. “Go get the eggs and milk”—Do we even have eggs and milk?! God, I am a terrible daughter!—“mixed up!”

He dashes off, and I try to figure out what to do. I’ve gotten Mama a birthday gift—and given it to her with breakfast—every year since before Jax was even born.

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