Page 186 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
Jack grins goofily.
“I’ll see you when I get back?” Perry asks.
I nod. “Yes, please.”
I follow them outside and pause on the front porch, making a conscious effortnotto fold my arms across my midsection.
Don’t hide from me.
That’s a moment that’s going to stay with me for averylong time. I think about him kissing the road map that zigzags across my skin, and a shot of heat pulses through my veins.
Jack waves through the back window as Perry backs out of the driveway, his smile so wide, I almost start to cry again.
I’ve got a week’s worth of emotions rolling around inside me, and it’s barely eight in the morning. Forget yoga. With the way my heart is pounding, I’m burning more calories just standing still, letting all these feelings work their way through my heart and mind.
I drop onto my couch and let the thoughts come, filtering through the fears and doubts I should ignore and holding onto the things that feel more certain. Or one thing, really. One unwavering certainty that beats louder than everything else.
I am definitely in love with Perry Hawthorne.
And I’m going to tell him today.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Perry
I am overwhelmed beforewe’re even out of the car, which can’t be a good sign.
I thought I did well with the tie thing, and things were good with Lila and me. But then Jack and I got in the car, and the radio was on, tuned to NPR. I figured Jack wouldn’t like news radio, so I tried to find another station, stopping when I landed on a pop song I didn’t recognize. Do kids listen to pop music at age five? The song ended, and the deejays started talking about the song, but by that point, we were already approaching the elementary school, so I completely missed what the deejays were talking about until Jack yelled from the backseat, “Perry, what’s twerking?”
So. At least now I know. Kidsdefinitelydon’t listen to pop music at age five. At least notthispop music.
The entire time I’m circling the elementary school parking lot, Jack talks constantly. I’m trying to listen—is he going to quiz me later on all the random things he’s telling me?—but I’m also trying to focus, and doing both at the same time is not easy. Iwind up slamming on my brakes more than once to keep from rear-ending the cars in front of me.
“There’s my friend Maddox,” Jack says, pointing out the window.
I can’t tell which kid he means. There are dads and grandpas and little boys everywhere, most of them already streaming into the school cafeteria.
Meanwhile, I can’t even find a place to park. I leave the parking lot and head back out to the street in front of the school. People are parking along the curb, but with all the traffic, I can’t stop imagining getting Jack out of the car andintothe flow of traffic and spending the rest of the day at the hospital. Or worse.
How do parents do this? All day long, make decisions about how best to keep their kids safe?
I finally settle on flipping a U-turn and parking on the other side of the street, then I make Jack crawl across to the opposite side of the car to get out so we aren’t standing in the road.
After all that effort, we’re five minutes late for the breakfast, and we miss the instructions on how and where we get our food. I usher Jack into line, assuming we’ll just do what the people in front of us are doing, but then we figure out that we’re supposed to be going through the lineby class,and Jack’s class hasn’t been called up yet.
“Should I put my pancakes back?” Jack asks, his expression worried.
I shake my head. “We’re already here. Let’s just get through the line. They’ll have to forgive us for going out of order.”
Jack nods, but I can see how uncomfortable he is. He keeps tossing glances over his shoulder, like other kids are going to be mad at us for cutting.
Finally back at the table, we sit down only to realize I forgot to get us silverware.
“Perry, I don’t have anything to drink,” Jack says. “Did you get me some milk?”
So I forgot silverwareandmilk.
“I didn’t. Can you sit right here while I run and grab us some?”
