Keep Me in Mind by Jaime Reed

Author:Jaime Reed
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.

I had no intentions of taking Ellia to a new spot today. Her re-induction into society needed to occur gradually. I knew that much. I also knew that she probably shouldn’t operate moving machinery such as a bike, but she steered hers like a pro, circling around me with broad dips and turns, hands and no hands. There were some actions you just didn’t forget and were able to perform on instinct. Like when I’d kissed her in the hospital.

Now I tried to focus on the road as we pedaled the two miles to Wade’s house.

Everything in Quintero was within biking distance. Tourists and vendors crowded the main artery of Cape Street all year round. Palm trees lined the sidewalks like lights on a runway, pointing us toward the roundabout where a bronze statue of our county’s namesake stood in the center. The junction served as the city’s compass, dividing east from west, residential from commercial. With the ocean at our backs, we navigated through the long strip of boutiques, bistros, and brick storefronts covered in bad folk art.

“Okay, when you said you wanted to take me somewhere, I didn’t know you meant someone’s house,” Ellia commented as we stopped at the crosswalk. It could’ve been the ride uphill or the shirtless guy singing behind us with flowers and Christmas lights in his beard, but she looked annoyed. I couldn’t blame her either way.

“Not just any someone. Technically, it’s Wade’s house,” I said. “My—my uncle,” I added awkwardly. “My grandpa left it to Wade when he died, but he only stays there when his mom comes to town. I doubt he’d mind us hanging out. I have to return his bike anyway.”

“His mom?” she asked, frowning. “Wouldn’t that make her your grandmother?”

“Step-grandmother, yes, but she’s the same age as my dad. Her son, Wade, is sixteen and goes to León with us. Well, with me.” I braced myself for the impending questions. There was no way to get around them.

Ellia lifted her scarred eyebrow. The words “you gotta be kidding me” were written all over her face. “So you’re older than your uncle? What kind of Jerry Springer mess is that?”

I returned the look with what I hoped communicated my extreme offense. “Not everyone has a picture-perfect family, El. I gotta work with what I got.”

“Trust me, my family isn’t perfect,” she replied.

“I know,” I said dryly. “But don’t let anyone tell them that.”

“Oh, you’re gonna talk smack about my parents?”

“Why not? They do it to me all the time,” I argued. “You’ve seen where I live. It’s not the ritziest neighborhood in town. My entire house can fit in the bottom floor of your house. My folks are divorced, my dad’s blue collar, and my grandfather married a younger woman and had a kid my age. As far as your family’s concerned, I’m poor white trash. Good for reality TV, but not a proper suitor for their daughter.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but closed it again. It was hard to contend with the truth.

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