Not Exactly a Love Story by Audrey Couloumbis Read Free Book Online Page A

that—”
    “No. Donna, don’t make anything more out of what Isay than what I meant. I can screw things up enough on my own.”
    “Dom,” Mom said, her tone softening immediately upon some sign of vulnerability in Mr. B.
    “I love you, Donna. For more important reasons than your housekeeping.”
    “God knows you’d have to love me for more than that,” Mom said with a laugh. She’s a sucker for hearing someone loves her.
    I shut my door again, very quietly.
    Mom’s enthusiasm for playing with her new house had lasted through the holidays. As soon as Mr. B and I put away the Christmas decorations, Mom apparently forgot where to find the vacuum cleaner. The thing is, I knew Mom was doing her best. She can map things out, but she needs more than cooperation, she needs a support system. She has that at work, she had that in Dad. I loved her, but it might turn out that with Mr. B, Mom had to sink or swim.
    When I went downstairs ten minutes later, everything had cooled down. Mr. B had gone, Mom was just leaving. I made a bowl of cereal for myself. I squinted at the wall clock, the way we all did—the field of Italian sunflowers on the face nearly obscured the numbers—and began to breathe easy. No irate fathers had pounded on the door, there were no cops surrounding the house.
    My breakfast went uninterrupted.

EIGHTEEN
    There was a midmorning fire drill.
    My second-period class filed out right alongside Patsy’s.
    “Hey, Patsy,” the girl in front of me called out in a pretty voice with a strong Southern accent. She reached out for Patsy as she called her name, grasping Patsy’s hand to give it a little squeeze.
    What followed happened so quickly, I would’ve missed it if I blinked once. Patsy’s immediate reaction was to return the hand thing, starting to smile, but she cut her own response short, the happy pink flush of her cheeks deepening to one of mild embarrassment.
    “Sissy, I always mean to call—” Patsy said.
    “I’m always busy anyway,” the girl ahead of me said, sort of too cheerfully. “You know that.”
    “I know that,” Patsy echoed in a dismal tone. “Do youlike your teachers this semester?” she said, mustering up a conversation.
    “Oh, yeah. They’re all real good about late homework and all.”
    “How are your brothers and sisters?”
    “Oh, fine. Bobby Wayne’ll be coming here next year.”
    Brown Bunny moved in from Patsy’s other side just then. I had a feeling she’d been listening in from a few steps away. I didn’t think Patsy saw her until then, either.
    “Say hi to everybody for me,” Patsy said quickly, stepping out of the loose formation of the line as she spoke.
    A casual onlooker might think they’d spoken only in passing, the way Patsy handled herself. Sissy was in a couple of my classes, one of those serious kids teachers always seat squarely between two of the class loudmouths to tone things down. I’d never even heard her voice before.
    I followed Patsy and Brown Bunny, something that was less conspicuous than it sounds. Students were shifting around, so all I had to do was look like part of any conversation if the girls noticed me.
    “I didn’t know you were so friendly with her,” Brown Bunny said, letting her long teeth sink in.
    Patsy said, “I was standing next to her, that’s all.”
    “You had
something
to talk about,” Brown Bunny said, cutting off that line of defense.
    “I used to hang out with her now and then.”
    “Who?” Melanie said as she joined them.
    “Sissy Donovan,” Patsy said, her facial expression plainlycommunicating severe pain. “Melanie and I both did, didn’t we?”
    “Hung out?” Melanie looked wary.
    “Oh,” Patsy said, with a dismissive lift of her hand.
    “It was more a matter of carpooling,” Melanie said, clearly irritated that her cover had been blown. “Our mothers arranged that, if you know what I mean. Before her mother died.”
    “That must be why she is so completely without style,” Brown