We Built This City by Cat Patrick

Author:Cat Patrick [Patrick, Cat]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2024-04-02T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Back at the Robertson house, Jenny moved to Jason’s bottom bunk, so Christy and I got Jenny’s room to ourselves. Christy padded across the thick coral carpeting to the bed where her duffel was, unzipping it and digging through in search of a sleep shirt.

“You did really well today,” she said, meaning our daytime performance at a retirement home. “Especially ‘Hard Knock Life.’ ”

“Thanks,” I said, my cheeks turning pink, trying to avoid looking at her as she yanked off her tank top and shorts. “The residents were really sweet. I always want to, like, try to . . . um . . . you know, do a good job for them.”

“They were sweet!” Christy said, turning to face me in her oversized tee. “I love when we perform at retirement homes. They’re always so, like, genuine and enthusiastic!” She knotted her hair high on her head with a scrunchie. “Why aren’t you getting ready for bed?”

“Uh . . . oh yeah,” I said, standing up and unzipping my own bag.

With her toiletries in tow, Christy went to the bathroom connecting the two Robertson kids’ rooms and locked the door that led to Jason’s bedroom, but she didn’t even shut the door on Jenny’s side before sitting down to pee.

I turned away and put my nightshirt on over my clothes, then undressed underneath, pulling my tank top and bra out through the holes for the neck and right arm. Kids on the cast who’d been traveling a long time always changed in front of one another, but I wasn’t used to it yet.

When Wes and I had sleepovers, I usually just face-planted onto the bed without changing, washing up, or brushing my teeth, but I joined Christy in the bathroom after she finished, flushed, and waved me over.

I pulled my hair high on my head like Christy’s, taking the cold cream she offered, smearing white paste all over my forehead, cheeks, and chin. It felt like whipped cream cheese, smelled like spicy menthol, and made my skin tingle.

Christy held her fist near her shoulder and pretended to stab a fake knife as she whispered creepily, “Kill kill kill, mom mom mom.”

I took a step away from her. She burst into laughter.

“Not a Friday the 13th fan?” she asked, looking at herself in the mirror, tilting her head to the side. “I guess we do look more like Michael Myers anyway.”

“I watched The Exorcist once,” I said, feeling like I needed to redeem myself.

“Wow, really?” Christy asked, soaking her washcloth under the faucet and starting to wipe off the face cream. “That one’s too scary for me.”

“Okay, fine,” I admitted, too distracted by wiping my damp washcloth across my forehead to really think about what I was saying. I just . . . spoke. “Wes and I snuck in and saw one scene when Kris and Holly were babysitting us, and we basically ran away screaming.” Christy laughed, actually snorting when I added, “Don’t tell anyone, but I peed my pants a little.

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