Signs of You by Emily France Read Free Book Online

so I never call him on it.
    â€œDad, there are all sorts of illnesses that don’t cause fevers,” I protest as I crawl back into bed.
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œLike . . .” I pause, my mind going blank. I retreat to the safety of food. “I feel like an overcooked hardboiled egg. You know, when the shell cracks a little and the white stuff kind of oozes into the water. And the yolk gets all dry in the center.”
    â€œOh,” he says, f inally looking concerned. “So your head and your stomach?”
    I nod like crazy, even though I don’t have a clue how he got a headache and a stomachache out of what I just said. “Yeah. Stomach and head. Real bad.”
    â€œWell, I’ll start some Jell-O. If you’re sure . . .” he pauses searching for words. “That you’re just a little sick.”
    â€œI’m f ine,” I say, pulling the blankets over my head. And by f ine I mean so absolutely far from f ine I couldn’t even see f ine if I had a telescope.
    â€œI just think that—” Dad is cut off by the ringing phone. “Oh, dammit. Hello? Yes, here.” Dad pulls the covers down and hands me the phone. “It’s Kate again. Says it’s urgent.” I roll my eyes and put the phone to my ear.
    â€œHey.” All I hear is crying. “Kate?” I sit up.
    â€œYou’ve got to come over here,” Kate chokes out between little sobs. “I’m freaking out.”
    No, no, no .
    I stare at my Dad. He stares at me. The phone feels cold against my ear. “Kate,” I manage. My tone is much calmer than I would have expected. “Who’d you see?”
    The crying immediately stops.
    â€œHow did you know?” she asks.
    â€œJust tell me who you saw.”
    â€œAunt Lilly.”
    We all know Aunt Lilly. She’s the reason Kate ended up in our group. She’s been dead for almost two years.
    I tell Kate I’ll be there in f ive minutes. My father’s eyebrows arch in that I-thought-you-said-you-were-sick kind of way.
    â€œIt’s urgent,” I say to Dad as I text Jay and Noah. I tell them to meet me at Kate’s house ASAP. “Girl stuff. Let me go? Please?”
    Dad shakes his head, clearly debating with himself whether or not to push me on this, to f ind out what’s really wrong. But girl stuff almost always succeeds in scaring him off. “Fine,” he agrees after a minute. “But be back for dinner. I’m doing a fantastic pot roast. With garlic mashed potatoes.”
    â€œOkay,” I say as I rif le through my drawers, looking for a clean T-shirt. “It’s a deal.”
    Dad sighs and hesitates, but then goes downstairs while I shower and change. I put on the shirt and jean shorts, run a brush through my wet hair, and head down to the kitchen. I take a few deep breaths on the stairwell to hide the panic that’s building in my veins so Dad doesn’t get upset. But one line keeps running through my head over and over: It’s happening to all three of us.
    â€œOh, I forgot to mention the parsnips,” Dad says as I enter the kitchen. “Really great rosemary roasted parsnips.”
    â€œParsnips?” I manage a smile and kiss him on the cheek. “Wouldn’t miss those for the world .”
    I head out the backdoor and cross the yard, proud that I kept it together in front of Dad. I put a foot on the stone wall at the edge of our property, grab onto the branch of a dogwood tree and pull myself over. The wall is covered with ivy, and I have to make sure my sandals don’t slip on a waxy green leaf; I’ve had countless skinned knees jumping over this wall on my way to Kate’s.
    The reasons I’ve jumped the wall on my way to her house have varied since we’ve been friends. Sometimes it’s major, like when she found out that her dad had a not-so-secret girlfriend. Other times, it’s more minor, like when she thinks