The Thing About Leftovers by C.C. Payne

Author:C.C. Payne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2016-06-14T13:14:20+00:00

Chapter 22

I felt sick and nervous about coming out of my bedroom the next morning. I felt really nervous about using the bathroom, which we now shared with Keene. So, I locked the bathroom door and hurried, not just to get out of the bathroom, but to get out of the house.

When I passed Keene in the upstairs hallway, he sort of grunted at me. I figured he agreed: I should get out of the house as soon as possible. As for me, well, I thought Keene should put on a shirt.

• • •

I felt much better outside. The sky was blue; the sun was shining; there was a cool breeze; and the birds were singing to each other, as if to say, Look what a pretty day! Nothing bad could happen on a day like this! I know! I know!

The longer I was outside and the farther I walked, the better I felt. Maybe Coach Bryant was right—maybe fresh air and exercise really did help. When I started walking up the hill on Dahlia Drive, I thought of Zach. He was probably waiting for me on his porch, so I picked up my pace. But when I reached the top of the hill, I could see that Zach’s porch was empty. I slowed way down, taking tiny baby steps, to give him time to come out.

I’d never really looked closely at Zach’s house before. It was made of rock and somehow seemed older than the houses around it. At first glance, it seemed smaller, too. But when I looked at the sides of the house, I could see how far back it went. It wasn’t any smaller than the other houses; it just didn’t want to be a show-off. I liked that about Zach’s house. I decided his house was my favorite.

I walked the rest of the way to school as slowly as I could, all the while hoping Zach would eventually catch up to me. He never did, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

I was late. Again. The hallways were all but empty when I entered, except for Mrs. Sloan, the—gypsy—guidance counselor. She saw me right away and made a beeline for me, her gold-coin belt jingling with every step.

“Hi, Fizzy,” she said, smiling as if I were the person she’d most wanted to see this morning.

“Hi.”

“Looks like you need a tardy slip.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said to my shoes.

“I could help you with that.”

Relief mixed with gratitude flooded my heart as I looked up at her.

“Tell you what,” Mrs. Sloan said. “You come to my office and chat with me for fifteen minutes or so and I’ll give you a tardy slip—an excused tardy slip.”

I thought about this and then said, “But we’d just be chatting, right? I mean, it won’t be like . . . counseling.”

“Right. We’re just two friends catching up. Come on,” she said, and I followed Mrs. Sloan to her office.

She pulled out a chair for me at the little worktable.

I just stood there, looking at it.

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