16 Things I Thought Were True by Janet Gurtler Read Free Book Online

setting up their entrance kiosk. One rolls her eyes at me but the other says hi. I have to pass the office on the way to the gift shop and pick up my pace.
    â€œMorgan!” a voice calls out as I’m speed-walking to get past.
    I sigh and slow my steps. Pretending none of the hospital stuff happened and ignoring Adam as usual is perfectly fine with me. I’m happy to go back to the boss/employee relationship. Honestly, I’m embarrassed, but he rushes out of the office and damn if my heart doesn’t beat a little harder. I grab my phone like it’s a security blanket and arrange my face into a suitable imitation of a smile as he jogs toward me. “Is your mom okay?” He sounds genuinely concerned. It cracks off a layer of my wariness.
    â€œShe’s tired. Her surgery is in a couple of days. So. Yeah. Nervous, I think.” I lift my hand to block the bright morning sun from my eyes.
    â€œUnderstandable. Don’t worry though. She’ll be fine.” He smiles.
    â€œHi, Adam!” a female calls. A couple of girls are walking toward us, and he waves without even glancing over, but I see them—two girls each with a perky ponytail, dressed in red Tinkerpark T-shirts. They’re whispering to each other as they pass to go to the gaming area; they giggle and one of them wiggles her hips in an exaggerated dance motion. I glance back at Adam, but he’s watching me and misses it.
    â€œSo,” he says. “She told you about your dad?”
    I blink, but my mind is on the girls.
    â€œYour post. On Twitter last night.” He gestures to my phone.
    â€œOh,” I say, as if I haven’t been tortured by the fact that he’s following me on Twitter. “That’s right. You’re @therealMcSteamy.”
    He blushes, but he’s the one who picked that name, so I smile. Suddenly I’m feeling slightly less vulnerable.
    â€œYou post on Twitter a lot ,” Adam says.
    The sun disappears behind a bank of dark clouds that seem to be moving toward us. If it rains a lot, they’ll shut down the park. I wouldn’t mind a day off.
    â€œIf it weren’t for Twitter, most of my best thoughts would be forced to stay in my head,” I say.
    â€œNo Facebook though?” he asks.
    â€œNot anymore.”After the video blew up, I deleted my account. “Are you stalking me?” I joke. Without thinking, I punch him on the arm as if he’s one of my brothers.
    â€œOw.” He rubs his arm, but I hardly put anything in it. And I’m a wimp. So I roll my eyes.
    â€œPlease,” I say. “That didn’t hurt.” A day ago, I wouldn’t have thought that I could tease him or have a real conversation with him. The sun emerges from behind a cloud and lights his face.
    â€œYou calling me a wimp?” he asks, smiling.
    â€œYou said it, not me.” I glance down at my phone—another three followers. I smile.
    â€œCan you go more than ten seconds without checking your phone?” he asks.
    â€œI’m pretty sure I can go at least twelve.” I tuck the phone back in my pocket and wait while he opens the gift shop door. He holds it while I walk inside. I remove a cloth cover off a row of breakable toys on a gift stand and head behind the counter to tuck it away. The checklist for opening the store hangs on a clipboard by the cash register. Each task has to be completed with times noted.
    â€œAre they going to do the angiogram through her arm vein?” Adam leans against the other side of the counter, watching as I go through the motions of opening.
    â€œUgh. I have no idea.” The thought of anything going through my mom’s arm to get to her heart turns my stomach
    â€œYou know what they do? With an angiogram?” he asks.
    â€œWell, she mentioned the dye, but I’m not sure really.” I grab a feather duster from under the counter and run it over the glass case that holds crystal toys and other