What We Saw at Night by Jacquelyn Mitchard

Author:Jacquelyn Mitchard [Mitchard, Jacquelyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Google: x_B0HIKXmf0C
Amazon: B008ADFHP2
Barnesnoble: B008ADFHP2
Goodreads: 13642387
Publisher: Soho Teen
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

When I got home that night, I found something tucked in my backpack: her little stuffed penguin on skis. Juliet still slept with it even when she came to my house. It was the closest thing to a security blanket she’d ever admit holding onto. (Not surprisingly, she’d named him “Penguin.”) He smelled of the only cologne Juliet ever wore, Cartier de Lune. She’d never parted with him.

Part of me melted. The other part hardened. Was this just a cynical chess move on her part, to try to stay one step ahead of me? If she was willing to entrust me with Penguin, it meant our friendship could never be violated … right? It meant nothing fundamental had really changed and that she’d felt terrible about the minor things that had changed. Or she just wanted me to be her heart again, so I would leave the whole Blondie issue alone until she was ready to confide in me.

I was too tired to think about it. Angie had fallen asleep on the couch. I thanked Mrs. Staples for the emergency babysitting gig and sent her on her way with cash from the drawer, then carried Angie up to bed. I sat in the kitchen, waiting for Mom and eating crackers until I was nauseated and my stomach literally popped out. Glancing in a night-blackened window, I noticed I looked like crap, my unremoved makeup all running in the wake of my shower, my wet hair pulled up on top of my head in a ponytail. I basically resembled the Lorax from Dr. Seuss.

I must have fallen asleep at the kitchen table. When I lifted my head, the kitchen windows were still black. My mouth tasted awful, like dirty socks. I sat up and rubbed my eyes groggily. Mom was sitting beside me, knitting a quilt. As Jack-Jack is not a natural with any kind of needle except the kind you stick in a person, this was very slow going with much quiet swearing.

“What time is it?” I croaked.

“Around four,” Mom said. “You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you. And there’s no way I can sleep after the night I had.”

I bit my lip. “How’s Nicola’s mom?”

Jack-Jack sighed. “She’ll live. That’s what matters.”

I nodded. I stood and stretched. I filled a glass of water at the sink and sat back down. Mom kept her eyes on her needlework.

“I’ve been thinking about … my future,” I said. “I want to apply to colleges that specialize in criminal justice.”

“Okay,” my mother said. She held up two squares, different colors of purple, to see if they matched in size. “I kind of thought you’d study online.”

“Like a bird in a cage?” I said.

“No, like a person with a chronic illness who has to avoid certain situations. Your dad has provided for your education. You have a fund. I don’t want to do anything to stand in the way of whatever it is you want to do.”

“You sort of sound like Dr. Andrew right now—the way he talks to me in front of you.

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