The Best Laid Plans by Cameron Lund

Author:Cameron Lund [Lund, Cameron]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2020-04-07T00:00:00+00:00

NINETEEN

FRIDAY NIGHT IS here way too fast and I haven’t had enough time to research. I haven’t even started Wings of Passion, and suddenly I’m in Andrew’s kitchen and the Plan is about to actually happen. I might throw up.

There’s a plate of crackers and hummus in front of us on the counter, but I can barely touch it.

“Are you sure you guys don’t want to come?” his mom asks, fastening an earring. They’re about to leave for the symphony, which is about an hour away in Burlington, so they’ll be gone for most of the night. “We could probably get some extra tickets. Rob is friends with the first violinist.”

“No, you guys go.” Andrew pops a cracker into his mouth.

This is the least I’ve ever felt like eating in my life.

I’ve brought my backpack with me, and inside are the educational sex books and a bunch of condoms I grabbed from the nurse’s office in school when no one was looking. I had to fake a stomachache to get close enough to the counter. Now I can feel the weight of the books against my back.

“We’ll just stay here,” I say, my voice coming out squeaky. Andrew gives me a look. I know I’m acting suspicious, and we need our parents to leave. I clear my throat and eat a cracker to keep from speaking further. It tastes dry and salty in my mouth. “Probably just gonna watch a movie,” I say, forgetting I’m trying not to speak and choking a little on the cracker. “You know, just normal stuff. Man, this cracker is dry.”

He kicks me and narrows his eyes.

“Okay, well, we’ll be home late,” my mom says, coming over to us. She kisses the top of my head loudly, and then moves over to kiss the top of his.

“But don’t have anyone over,” his mom says, pulling on her coat. “We won’t be home that late.”

“Have fun. Be good,” my dad says, waving. Then finally they’re all out the door.

And we’re alone.

Andrew and I linger by the hummus and crackers for a few minutes, neither of us speaking. I can hear the tick . . . tick . . . tick of the clock in the living room and the quiet buzz of the refrigerator. I reach for another cracker, eager for something to do, and bite into it. The crunch echoes loudly in the room, practically ricocheting off the walls.

And then I begin to giggle, quietly at first because I’m trying to hold it in.

“Really?” Andrew asks. “I thought we were done with this.” But he begins to laugh too, and before I can help it, I snort, spraying bits of cracker out of my mouth and across the countertop. “Gross!” He’s laughing harder now.

I open my mouth and stick my tongue out, showing him the rest of the chewed cracker.

“You look like a baby bird,” he says.

“Oh, should I feed some to you?” I drop my head down so the mushy cracker in my mouth is dangerously close to falling out and onto him.

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