Page 29 of This I Know
As much as I enjoy cooking, and as much as it relaxes me physically, it does give me lots of time to think. Maybe a bit too much, in my case. And it should come as no surprise that all I thought about while I was working was Avery. Her leg looked okay. Is it healed? She deserves an apology, and she’s not going to get that from my dad. Will it have to be from me? She’s already heard my last name. Does she know who I am?
Is that why she glared?
Just as I’ve successfully distracted myself with some mindless computer surfing, the TV humming in the background, there’s a knock on the door. I sit up and quickly check the time on my phone – it’s 6:45, and I’m just now starting to smell the roasting chicken. I have no idea who would be here; we aren’t expecting anyone, and since news broke about my dad we don’t get many visitors.
I open the door, and standing there is Cole Ebbs with Julia Crane. Still my only two friends from Westfield High. The only people who bother to talk to me anymore, when everyone else can see I try so hard to keep to myself. For whatever reason, they break through.
But still … a drop-in. I might have expected this from someone like Cole, but the fact that Julia’s here, too, surprises me.
Cole smiles when he sees me. “Harrington. We thought we’d stop by.”
I don’t reply.
“That okay?”
Cole still has his backpack slung over one shoulder, so I guess he hasn’t returned home after school. Julia is holding a small purse over the crook of her arm and she’s done her hair in a cascade of loose waves. She’s wearing a black mini skirt with a white tank top and heels, and even more jewelry than she wears when I see her around school. I didn’t think that was possible.
And she’s got a tiny grin on her face, one that lets me know she’s glad they were able to surprise me like this. She doesn’t move. Knowing her, she’s probably hoping to give me the opportunity to look her up and down.
I don’t.
“Yeah,” I say. “Sure.” I step aside to let them in.
Cole enters with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders back. Julia tiptoes after him, making her way through the foyer, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor with each step.
“Oh, my God,” Julia says, surveying the house. She stops in her tracks. “It smells so good in here.”
“Your parents are out?” Cole asks me.
I nod. Yes, both of my parents are out. My mother and my father. Please continue to believe that. “I’ve got a roast chicken going.”
Cole tips his head. “Your parents are out and you’re making a roast chicken?”
“I think it’s sweet,” says Julia. “A roast chicken. I mean, who does that?” She gives me an eyelash-batting smile.
I lead them to the living room.
Cole takes a seat on the couch with a sigh and then pats the area next to him, his strong arm hitting the leather harder than necessary. He’s inviting Julia with his hands. She hesitates before she takes the seat and sets her purse down nearby. Cole drapes his arm around her, and when he turns his attention to me his wrist is hanging down over her shoulder.
“Think we can get in on some of this chicken?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say, “why not. It’s not ready yet, though. The timer’s, ah, gotta go off. You want something to drink for now?”
“What do you have?”
“No alcohol.” We do have some, actually, down in our basement bar. But I’m not up for that, and my mother sure as hell isn’t up for that, and I sort of expected the topic to come up. So I mentally planned accordingly.
“Damn,” he says. “Coke’s fine.”
“Julia?”
From underneath Cole’s heavy arm, she perks at the sound of my voice. “The same.”
I retreat into the kitchen and pour them each two glasses of Coke with more than enough ice. I use our nice glasses, not the everyday ones that are foggy from overuse. I don’t know why. I guess it’s just that we never have guests anymore. I pop the cans, and the ice crackles as I pour the soda over it. I can hear the two of them mumbling in the living room, and when I pass my eyes to where they are, I see Cole touch Julia’s exposed leg and lean in toward her neck.
I clear my throat when I return. Julia sits up straight but Cole makes no attempt to hide his actions, sliding his hand across her lap as he prepares to take the drink. I hold the glasses out and hand them over. They both take a sip and then set them on the coffee table with synchronous clinks.
“Thanks, man,” says Cole, licking his lips.
