Emmy & Oliver by Robin Benway Read Free Book Online Page B

unpleasant end to the evening. “You both had enough tonight.”
    â€œYou’re no fun,” Nora pouted.
    â€œI think I can live with that,” I told her, then shut the boxes just as Oliver was going for another slice. “Oh! Oh, sorry, I mean . . . you can have more. Sure.”
    He raised an eyebrow at me. “You sure, babysitter?”
    It took a few seconds to find my voice again. “Um, yeah. The rules only apply to anyone under four feet tall.”
    â€œI’m taller than Molly,” Nora immediately told Oliver.
    â€œI’m older!”
    â€œI can count to three hundred!”
    â€œI can count to a bazillion!”
    â€œA bazillion plus one!”
    â€œGot it,” Oliver said, then smiled at them before taking his slice and heading back upstairs. “Enjoy your movie!” he called behind him, and I realized that the girls and I were watching the stairs even after he disappeared.
    Nora turned to look at me. “Mommy says he spends too much time in his room.”
    â€œOh yeah?” I said. “What do you think?”
    â€œI think that he has the biggest room so he should spend the most time there.”
    â€œThat’s very sound logic.” I smiled down at her, then used the back of my hand to wipe some stray sauce off her cheek. “C’mon, let’s do what Oliver said and enjoy the movie.”
    The kids enjoyed the rest of the movie.
    I don’t remember anything that happened in it, though. I was too busy thinking about what Oliver was doing upstairs. Homework? Watching his own movies, ones that didn’t involve zany music and bright color explosions? I should have invited him to watch with us, I thought, then wondered what I would’ve done if he said yes.

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    D rew and I stayed on campus the next day at lunch while Caro disappeared to Del Taco with three senior girls from the cheer squad. “Bring me a bean burrito!” Drew called after her as she ran down the hill toward the parking lot. “With red sauce!”
    â€œOkay!” Caro yelled back, her voice disappearing into the breeze.
    â€œShe’s not going to remember,” I said to Drew as she disappeared. “She never remembers.”
    â€œI’m forever hopeful,” he said. “That’s what friends do. They hope. They have faith in each other.”
    â€œWell, I have faith that she’ll forget,” I said, hiking my backpack up onto my shoulders. “You have to be a realist with Caro.”
    â€œI’m a hopeful realist,” Drew said. “I’m a healist! Like those guys on TV late at night that cure people of cancer.” He grinned down at me. Even when we were kids, Drew was always the tallest kid in our class and when he hit his growth spurt in eighth grade, he became the Beanstalk to our classroom of Jacks.
    â€œYeah, speaking of that, I saw Oliver last night,” I said.
    Drew paused midstep. “What does being a healist—don’t steal that, by the way, I’m having it copyrighted even as we speak—have to do with Oliver?”
    â€œNothing, I was just trying to change the subject.” I tugged at his elbow to keep him moving. There are conversations you have to have face-to-face, but others that require perpetual motion. Shoes scuffing, the crunch of fallen leaves, blades of grass whispering together keep the other person from looking into your eyes and realizing that you don’t believe a word of what you’re saying.
    â€œSo Oliver. Mr. Mystery,” Drew said. “Did you hear about the milk cartons the other day?”
    â€œDude, I was there with Caro. I saw the whole thing.”
    â€œSucks,” Drew said, scuffing the toe of his Vans along the cement walkway. “People are assholes. Milk-wasting