Page 93 of August Lane
August had answered this question enough times that her response was robotic. “The library. With Mavis.”
“What are you studying?”
“Math?”
“Are you asking or telling me?”
“It’s a good excuse to get out of the house.”
Jojo tapped her nails again. “Are you sneaking off with that boy Birdie doesn’t know about?”
Not sneaking offwithbut sneaking offto. Luke had been recovering from his injuries at Delta Blue for a week now. Birdie knew where August was going but had kept her promise not to tell Jojo. “Your mamacan’t handle any kind of violence. Just hearing about it will send her running out the door.”
There’d been no sign of Ava. Luke refused to talk about her, so August avoided the subject. Between songwriting sessions, they talked about everything but what happened to him—worst books, best movies, which cafeteria worker composed the most balanced lunch trays. After school, she brought him takeout from King’s Kitchen, and they’d eat salty catfish baskets with Silas’s records playing in the background. Luke seemed happy, more content than he’d ever been. And August slowly realized why he couldn’t write a love song on his own.
No one is born knowing how to love. You learn from parents, grandparents, friends. If all they taught you was how dangerous loving was, or the ways it could hurt, you’d never learn how to do it properly. So how could he write about it? He didn’t have the vocabulary. All he had was emotion, big feelings he captured in melodies. August was his transcriptionist, trying to craft verses strong enough to contain them.
“I’m failing chemistry,” August told Jojo. “Mavis tutors me at the library, that’s all.”
Jojo’s phone rang, rescuing August from the interrogation. She started to stand, but Jojo motioned for her to stay. “I’m talking to my daughter,” she said, instead of her usual cheerful greeting. “Stop worrying, David. If a half hour is all we’ve got, then we’ll kill ’em for thirty minutes. Let it go.”
She hung up and said, “He’s in love with me. I pretend not to know, but it’s obvious.” She gestured toward August. “Look at me telling the truth. See how easy that was?”
August pictured David Henry’s slick smile and flint-colored eyes. She couldn’t imagine her mother’s manager pining for anyone. “Do you love him, too?”
“He’s married. Plus, he’s a drinker. They’ll slap you around when they can’t get hard. Not worth the hassle.” Jojo stood and straightened her shirt. “You hungry? Let’s make waffles.”
August nodded, but then, with her feelings for Luke burning bright in her mind, she asked, “What do you think he’d do if you told him?”
“Told him what?”
“How you felt?”
“I never said—” She stopped when August rolled her eyes. “Fine. He’d be happy. Probably file for divorce. Then he’d make a bunch of promises and break every single one.”
Luke used up all his unexcused absences. On his first day back at school, he wore long sleeves to hide most of his bandage, even though it was still hot enough for shorts. His cheeks were leaner, and his eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. Everything he’d hidden for years—his messed-up family, the abuse—was clear on his face.
Silas had let him borrow a car and Luke drove into town slowly, with his stomach cramping in protest. He parked in the back of the school lot so no one would see him. The stomach cramps became dry heaves the minute he opened the door.
The second tardy bell rang before he made it to class. His teacher looked irritated by his lateness, but softened when she noticed his arm. “Take a seat,” she whispered, with enough pity to smother him. Shane, who he hadn’t heard from since being suspended from football, raised a brow and mumbled, “Where the hell you been?”
It hadn’t occurred to Luke to come up with a good lie. He didn’t want people making up wild stories that reached some teacher or administrator who would then immediately call his mother. The image of Ava barreling through the doors in an oxy-fueled rage had him eyeing the exits and plotting an escape.
He skipped his next class. Instead, he went to the theater dressing room and left the lights off. The darkness was soothing, and he focused on slowing his breath.
A few minutes later, the door swung open and filled the room with light. He blinked until Jessica’s face came into focus. It had been a month since they’d spoken. Everything about her was softer. Her shirt was pale pink, her hair a cloud of spirals, and she smelled like an apple orchard.
“Knew I’d find you here.” She sat in a chair. “Tell August thatrehearsals for the fall play are starting soon. She’ll have to say goodbye to your sex den.”
“We eat lunch here. That’s it.”
“Someone’s definitely eating something.” She eyed a pile of velvet pillows. “I don’t see the appeal.”
“How did you know? Did you see us walk in, or…” All that time they thought they were hiding. Did the entire school think they were having quickies during lunch?
“Calm down. I knew this was August’s hideout a long time ago. When you disappeared from our lunch table and she started bringing two brown bags every day, I figured it out.” She tilted her head. “That’s really sweet. Her feeding you.”
“Knock it off.”
