Page 27 of The Accidental Text

“Why do you look like you want to throw a rock through that window?” Chelsea says, snapping me out of my trance.

“Huh?” I shake my head a couple of times, trying to bring my brain back around.

“You look super pissed,” she says.

“I’m fine. I was just thinking about something.”

I was staring out the window, at Dawson and Robin walking together toward his car to go to lunch. I wish I could have snapped a picture for Hannah, since she doesn’t believe me about them being together. I could have had the perfect proof. Robin saying something and Dawson laughing. A big ole guffaw kind of laugh. Head thrown back and everything. Then he put his arm around her and gave her a very cozy side hug. The kind where they rested their heads together.

And here I sit, watching the front desk, like a loser.

That’s it. I’m firing Robin.

Except that I can’t do that. Because it would be wrong. And Robin is really good at her job. I just wish she was a little bit … not so attractive. Or funny. I mean, I haven’t actually heard her say anything funny, but clearly Dawson has.

Dang you, Robin, and your stupid humor and pretty face.

I even tested out my theory today, to look outside myself more. I was extra nice to her and told her how pretty shelooked. It didn’t make me feel any better. Not one bit. So I guess I’m done with that. Back to my regular inward-looking self.

“Is it June?”

“What?”

“Our neighbor? Coming to the party with Dad?” Chelsea furrows her brow at me, a mix of confusion and concern on her face.

“Yeah,” I say, taking a split second to decide that this is the path I should go down. I don’t want to explain this whole thing to Chelsea. She doesn’t even know about my Dawson crush to begin with. Besides, it’s a moot point.

And anyway, Iamkind of annoyed by my dad bringing June to the party.

Chelsea turns so we’re face-to-face over the high-top desk. She’s got her I’m-the-big-sister face on. Oh, fun.

“Maggie, Dad is a grown man. We need to be okay with however he finds happiness.” She gives me a closed-mouth smile and a quick dip of her chin.

I see right through it. “That was well rehearsed. Good job, you.”

Chelsea lets her shoulders slouch. “I’m trying. I don’t like it either.”

“I know. But Dad said they were going as friends,” I say confidently.

Chelsea eyes me wearily. “You fell for that?”

It’s my turn to furrow my brow at her. “Well … didn’t you?”

“No,” Chelsea says, her voice almost sounding shrill. “After some thought, I think that’s Dad’s way of gently letting us in on this thing.”

“You’re lying.”

She just gives me a shrug of her shoulders in response.

“Who’s lying?” Devon asks, walking up to us, the glass front door swinging behind him as he enters the lobby of the shop. He comes to stand by Chelsea, both of them now looking at me.

“Chelsea thinks Dad and June aren’t just friends,” I say, reaching up and tugging on the pendant on my necklace.

“Yeah,” he says, like he can’t believe I hadn’t figured that out.

“You too?” I ask, my eyes wide.

“I think he’s just trying to tell us in that Dad way like he always does,” Devon says, and Chelsea turns her face toward him, giving him a nod of approval. Since when did these two bond? I’m supposed to be the glue that holds the two of them together. I’m the middle child; it’s my job.

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