Page 20 of Overdue

Austen: I just ran through a quick shower before supper. You?

Reed: Now I see the appeal of texting. I just said at least five things out loud that would have pissed you off. This is brilliant!

I can’t help but laugh. “Thank you, Reed.” I desperately needed a good laugh.

Austen: I can meet you halfway for a good slap anyway if you’d like.

Reed: Hmmm, tempting. Did your mom make a blueberry pie today?

Austen: OMG! It was one time!

Reed: It’s not something you forget. At least it hurt less than having my nose broken.

Reed: Did you just roll your eyes?

Reed: Too much?

Austen: Goodnight, Mr. Campbell

Reed: Sweet dreams, Miss Caraway.

I have to work to erase the grin off my face. If I reappear downstairs laughing after dramatically storming out earlier, Mom will know something is up.

Besides, I just heard Eliot’s car pull into the driveway. She’s a bloodhound when it comes to the continuing saga of Reed and me. I’ll just keep this to myself for a little while longer.

Are we becoming friends? I hope so. I hope he can learn to treat me like an adult. I can really use a few more friends right now.

eight

REED

“What?” I growl. I’m installing new annuals in the beds at the Morris house. The guys have been grinning at me all morning. They’ve been whispering like a bunch of preteen girls. Joe and Paul wiggle their eyebrows at me. Raffe, at least, has the good sense to suddenly become very interested in the proper placement of the pansies.

“We heard that you and the new head librarian were all over each other at the library yesterday,” Paul says.

“Isn’t that Austen Caraway? According to Old Mrs. Litton, it was approaching public indecency,” Joe adds.

“That the same Austen that Reed had a hard-on for all through high school?” So, now Raffe has decided the stupid pansies aren’t as important as joining the conversation?

“Hey, Reed is right here,” I bark, stabbing my spade into the dirt. “And I don’t know what Old Mrs. Litton thought she saw, but it was all very PG. She was simply interested in my designs.” Seriously? Was there some inside rumor network that surpassed even the speed of a text message?

This is as bad as the time the rumor that I knocked up Melinda McCaffey, the head cheerleader, spread around town. I didn’t. Melinda and I never even had sex. I guess grabbing a soda through the drive-through together is the same thing.

“I bet she was, dog.” The other men burst out in laughter at Raffe’s words.

“Shut up.” I shove Raffe over into the flowerbed. It doesn’t do any good. They’re still laughing. I don’t take their ribbing too personally. I was in the same class as Raffe. We played sports together, partied together, and now work together. I just don’t like them discussing Austen like this.

“If you’re not careful,” Joe states between peals of laughter, “that girl’s going to break your nose again.”

“How do you know about that? You know what, never mind.” I guess I wasn’t as good at hiding that as I convinced myself I was. Chances are good the entire town knew about it by that night. Living in this place was like always forgetting to duck under the doorway and being surprised every time you hit your head.

I stand and dust my pants off.

“Hey, where are you going?” Paul calls.

“I guess I might as well go get my nose broken again,” I reply, walking backward across the road. “I’ll meet up with you at the next job.” I turn back around to the sound of laughter.

I climb in my truck and flip them off as I drive by. Is it mature? No. Does it feel good? Definitely.

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