Page 21 of Hate You, Maybe
“We’re going to be late.”
“We’ll be right on time.”
“On time is late,” she quips.
I puff out a laugh. “I’d love for you to show me that fact on Google.”
“Pass.” She reaches down to pull a slim book from her overstuffed bag. “As long as you’re driving, I’ll catch up on my reading.”
“What’s that?” I ask. “A play?”
“I can’t imagine you care.”
“Pretend I do.”
She exhales a long, slow breath, like dealing with me requires all her patience. “It’sMuch Ado About Nothing.”
“Shakespeare, huh?”
“Wow,” she says flatly. “And you didn’t even have to Google it.”
“I’ve read Shakespeare.” I squint out over the hood of thewagon. “Hamlet.MacBeth. That one with the guy who turns into a donkey.”
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” she says. “That’s our fall play for this year. But I’m thinking aboutMuch Adofor next fall.”
“Planning that far out?” I nod. “Impressive.”
“Just doing my job.” She clears her throat primly, then makes a big show of opening up the play and turning the first few pages.
“Will the GPS bother you?”
“Nope.” She really pops thepon that one.
“What about music?”
“Also no. I can focus under pretty much any condition.”
I eye her sideways. “Gold star for the drama teacher.”
“We prefer theater,” she says. “Try to remember.”
We’re only about ten minutes into the drive when my phone rings. Too bad I’ve got my earbuds packed because I didn’t want to be rude. “It’s my sister,” I say. “I need to take the call.”
“I’m not listening.” Sayla frowns at her play like the dialogue’s making her furious.
Yeah, Kroft. I get it.
Focus under any condition.
Congratulations.
“Hey, Jo,” I say, taking the call. “You’re on speaker in my car, so don’t talk about how awesome I am or you’ll embarrass me.”
“No danger of that,” she snarks. “But I thought you’d be at work.”
“We’re on our way to a professional retreat for the next couple of days.”
“We? Who are you with? Bridger?”
