Page 54 of Owen Bailey Needs Advice

“Who is that dork?”

“Dork?” Annie snorts. “Are we back in seventh grade?”

“Hey.” I smile down at her. “I’m always in seventh grade.”

“Well, that’s true.” Her pretty eyes shine like crescents. “That was Marco. He works in sports and he’s forever asking me to go away with him for the weekend.”

My grip around her tightens.My Annie.

I really should have been a caveman for Halloween.

“Not even a date?” I ask.

“Nope. Not that I’d go if it were only one evening, but—yeah, first shot in the dark, and he wants a weekend.” Her brown eyes go wide. “So, thanks for the escape.”

“Anytime,” I tell her.

Annie’s hands trail down until she’s wrapped them around my waist. She pulls me tight for a hug, and I hug her back.

Meredith and Levi dance just feet away, and when Meredith catches my eye, she gives me an encouraging thumbs up.

We sway and dance to another song in this same embrace, Annie’s heart thumping next to mine.

And when ballad number three begins, Annie grunts. “Ugh,Levi—I’ve got to change this setlist before there’s a revolt. Oof, and check the food. I’ll be back. Okay?” She pats my stomach like I might be a child she’s taking care of or a grandpa she just fed, and then she’s off.

And I feel utterly empty.

26

Annie

I’m still in bed. I may never leave. It’s a good thing the office offers a late show-up day to whoever plans the party. Because at this rate, I may never make it in.

Owen and I kicked everyone out at one a.m., and we were still cleaning at three. Annnnnd… my best friend is now at school.Teaching. Behaving like a human. On Halloween—the day all children go nutty.

I should get up. I should get out of this bed and take him the strongest, largest, most obnoxious cup of coffee Coeur d’Alene has to offer.

And I will.

After ten more minutes...

Ten minutes turns into an hour. But I am up and out the door by 11:45 in the morning. Which feels like a small miracle. I stop by Elsie’s, and while Grammy may not have the strongest coffee in all of Coeur d’Alene, she does have the best. Not to mention, I get pancakes to go.

And—I only eat one of Owen’s.

He’ll never know.

I park in the teachers’ parking of the middle school lot.Then, I rifle through my glove box for my old sub badge. Yep, before I got my job at the Idaho Times, I was a substitute teacher for three months. I still have the badge, the secretaries haven’t changed in the last twenty years… between the two, I slip into the school with a wave and a “Hiya, Annie!”

I hold the coffee to-go carrier and the Styrofoam container of pancakes to my chest, praying I don’t slosh hot, black liquid onto my Grateful Dead T-shirt or my pink blazer. They’re my fav.

When I reach Owen’s room, the door is closed and I don’t have a hand to open it up. So, with the toe of my black Hazel Point heels, I tap the front of the door and peek in through the window. My bestie is bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and talking.

A girl sitting in the front row points to the door and this window I peer through. Owen turns his head, and I can’t tell if he’s thrilled to see me or not. He isn’t frowning. He isn’t smiling either.

Owen jogs over to the door and opens it up.

“Hey,” he says, that Owen-warmth filling the space between us—I don’t know how he does that. “What’s up? I thought you’d be resting.”

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