Page 94 of Crew
The truth was, we'd probably tell my brother, see what he had to say. But for now, Jordan only said, "He'll be dealt with."
"I'm telling the truth." Race kept looking around at us. "I mean it."
"We know," I said.
Jordan left first.
Zellman was second.
I was going to wait, but Cross moved behind me. I stopped at the door.
Race's mouth was slightly open, like he couldn't believe what had just happened.
He wanted to be in. He wanted to know what we were going to do, but that's how this worked. Race wasn't crew.
Cross touched the small of my back. He leaned forward, dropping his voice. "He'll be fine."
And I felt what I'd started to become accustomed to feeling when he touched me.
I felt that same tingle again.
Jordan dropped us off and Cross snuck inside with me. He slept on the floor of my room. He was gone when I woke this morning--my head pounding and my ribs sore--and I knew it hadn't been a ghost that turned my alarm clock off.
I had to bite my lip to keep from crying as I made my way to the bathroom. I hadn't wanted to take a painkiller again--I didn't like my foggy thoughts--but I needed it this morning. I was sore, and I hated that.
This confirmed my plan to stay home from school for the day, and I found Heather in the kitchen when I padded out of the bathroom. She was dressed, grabbing some coffee. When she saw me, she nearly dropped the coffee pot.
"You stayed home today!"
I paused, the fleeting thought that I was in trouble fading once she broke into a wide smile. She came over, her arms out, then seemed to remember why I was at home. She stopped herself, laughing sheepishly.
A tear slipped out, and she flicked it away.
"Channing's going to be so happy. It's like you're normal." She waved to the kitchen table. "Sit, sit. What do you want to eat? I'll make you something." She opened the fridge door, then shut it. "I'll buy you whatever you want."
I rubbed my eyes. They didn't want to open this morning. "I'll just have coffee."
"Just have coffee, says the seventeen year old." Heather shook her head as she picked up the pot and cleaned off the bottom. She poured me a cup, adding a little milk before bringing it over. "I know I'm officially old because I keep thinking no teenager should be drinking coffee like an adult." She grabbed her cup and slipped into one of the other chairs. "What am I saying, though? My father would still be horrified at me." She slapped a hand on the table. "Change of subject. What's your plan for the day?"
I gestured to the living room. "I'm going to be a lazy teenager today."
"Oh!" She silently clapped. "I used to be cool, believe it or not, so my past teenaged self is incredibly embarrassed by how I'm acting, but I almost feel proud of you." She pushed herself up from the table. "Okay. So what do you want? I'll grab your blanket. I'll get all the remote controls for you. Food. Drink. Kleenex, because you never know. Movies--no, we have the DVR. Your phone? Where's your phone?"
This wasn't the Heather I was used to dealing with. She was being motherly, which should've made me feel all sorts of edginess, but today wasn't normal. She was right. I was recuperating. Tomorrow I'd go back to being normal Bren.
"Weren't you going to work?"
"I was." She'd been looking around the kitchen, but now she stood up straight. "I have to call in your absence. For once, you're skipping with permission. I'll do that right now."
"Hey, Heather."
She started for the hallway, but stopped.
I said softly, "You're still cool."
Her mouth snapped shut. Her cheeks bulged out. She blinked rapidly, and then a small cry escaped her mouth. "Oh, Bren." She flicked a hand to her ear, blinking again, a whole bunch. "I'll, uh... I'll--Oh! I need to call."
I almost made her cry.
