When the World was Flat (and we were in love) by Ingrid Jonach Read Free Book Online

of her whenever she spoke, just in case she said his name.
    â€œYour dad has his check-up tomorrow, right?” I asked, having commented twice that it was too warm for September, asked if she was going to be working on the weekend and complained about art studies.
    There was stutter in her step, before she continued on with a nod.
    â€œAnd you have to go too.” It was a statement, not a question.
    Her dad complained she babied him, but Jo had to go to his appointments, even if it meant missing school and her beloved Mr Bailey. For a start, her dad needed someone to drive him. Jo was the only one in our group with a license for this reason. She also needed to hear it from the doctor first-hand, because Mr Green liked to keep his daughter in the dark. It had taken him four months to tell her he had cancer after the diagnosis.
    â€œLast night I dreamed he died,” Jo whispered.
    It was like an ice cube had been dropped down the back of my shirt. I drew in a sharp breath and the words came automatically, “They say dying in a dream is good. It symbolizes a new beginning.” And then I wondered why I had repeated this less than sage advice. Good? What was good about being woken up at all hours by the sound of your last breath? And who needed a new beginning three hundred and sixty-five times a year? I was like a slate being wiped clean every night.
    Jo kind of nodded and shook her head at the same time, her lank hair heavy on her shoulders. I knew she was embarrassed that she had dropped her guard like that, even to me. Jo was like a draft horse, a Clydesdale. She could have saddled the weight of a thousand nightmares before her back broke.
    â€œCall me after the appointment,” I said when we reached my house.
    â€œOK.”
    I watched her walk down the street again, wishing that I had a ball of twine for the future like I did for the past. Then we could stick to the highways, instead of these country roads with their potholes and dead-ends.
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    I told Deb about the appointment, which was a mistake. After dinner, she knelt before a candle with her hands together in prayer and invoked the Great God himself on behalf of Mr Green.
    I covered my laughter with a yawn. “Night,” I said, but she was deep in conversation with Asclepius and his daughters, the Six Sisters of Healing.

 
    6
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    Sylv and I sat in the quad together at lunch the next day. Well, I sat. Sylv stretched out on a bench, using her bag as a pillow, her underwear on full display.
    â€œHow about you take a photo?” she called out to two sophomores, who were hovering like gnats around a bug zapper.
    The sophomores burst into laughter and turned towards the cafeteria. I watched them shadow-box each other as they walked and suddenly it was like watching a rerun on TV, as in déjà vu. Majorly. “I think you flash your underwear too much,” I told Sylv.
    â€œYou would too if you wore red lace panties from Victoria Secret instead of boy shorts from Wal-Mart,” she said, taking a bite from her apple and turning her head to look at Mr Bailey, who was on yard duty. Her eyes narrowed. “Do you think Mr Bailey will man up and make a move or what?” she asked. “I mean, have you seen how he and Jo look at each other? Talk about sexual tension.”
    I rolled my eyes. “There is no sexual tension.”
    â€œWhatever. I bet Mr Bailey is releasing the sexual tension at least five times a day.” She made a jerking movement with her hand, and the apple bobbed up and down.
    â€œSylv! Cut it out!” I yelped. My eyes went to Tom, who was sitting across the quad with Melissa and the Mutts. He was not looking at me though. He had barely looked at me since Sylv had told the world about the porno starring Lillie and Tom.
    Melissa giggled and made a show of flicking her hair. She took the opportunity to touch him as often as she could, patting his knee, stroking his arm. My heart squeezed with