Wherever You Go by Heather Davis

Author:Heather Davis
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi

Seeming to follow Lena's lead, Grandpa reached for his fork and shakily lifted some eggs to his mouth. His chewing was sloppy this morning, but at least he was eating.

I took a bite, finally realizing how hungry I was, even after breathing in the awful smell of burning eggs. These were good scrambles I'd made. Creamy, fluffy, seasoned just right, not a speck of brown to be seen.

"Hey, Grandpa," Lena said around a mouthful of toast, "you've got eggs on your chin."

He didn't respond to her, but he did dab at his chin with his sleeve. So, maybe he was more with us for the moment.

"Sorry, guys. I forgot napkins," I said, springing up to get some paper towels. Folded in half, they worked just as well as the fancy ones at the store.

As I floated the makeshift napkins on to Lena's and Grandpa's laps, the buzzer to the apartment rang. "God, what now?" I glanced up at the clock—it was nine. "What time is your play date?"

"One," said Lena. "Tori's mom is picking me up."

I walked over to the intercom. Our building wasn't a cool one that dialed your phone or anything—that would have been too modern for this place. "Hello?" I said, pressing the brown talk button.

"Hey. It's Jason."

I froze in place, my heart suddenly up in my throat. I managed to mumble, "Um, it's pretty early over here."

"Yeah, I know. You didn't answer your phone."

"It's off." I didn't explain to him again the whole thing about trying not to use Mom's minutes, which we could barely afford. Maybe the phone had been turned off for more than that reason, anyway. To say I wasn't in a what-do-I-do-about-Jason mode would be a lie.

"I was in the neighborhood. Can I come up?"

"Uh..." I glanced over at the breakfast table, where Grandpa was focusing on hoisting another bite to his mouth and Lena was tearing into another piece of toast, crumbs all over her face. They were a mess, and Grandpa had just had a major freak-out. Not to mention that I was a mess in my worn yoga pants and the old T-shirt I liked to sleep in. My hair hadn't seen a brush yet—I hadn't even spashed water on my face. However I felt about Jason, I didn't want him to see me—us—like this.

And then there was the state of our place. The main parts of the apartment were clean, but our secondhand furniture looked lived in, rumpled. My room was a mess, thanks to Lena's stuffed-animal collection, which had had some kind of a war last night and was scattered all over the room. And the kitchen? I just couldn't imagine showing him into this cramped place that now reeked of blackened eggs. I tried to sound casual when I said, "It's not the best time for you to visit."

"Okay, well," Jason said, "can you come down, then? I trie k than">"d to call you because I want to take you—all of you—someplace today. We've only got a few hours.

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