Things Too Huge to Fix by Saying Sorry by Susan Vaught Read Free Book Online

a lot of extra supplies insurance doesn’t cover,”I said, remembering how she and Dad explained it. I took a deep breath, enjoying the closer scent of Mom’s coconut and vanilla. When she came home, she’d smell like formaldehyde. “Dad’s doing his best selling produce from his gardening and cutting our grocery bill to help with expenses, and after three wars and three decades in the Army, he’s earned his retirement.”
    He’s earned his retirement.
    Mom said those last words with me. It was what we told everybody about Dad living on his army retirement and not having a paying job, because that’s what he wanted us to say. He didn’t like talking about the fact that he didn’t sleep well, and sometimes he just couldn’t stand to be around anybody but us. His plants and his dirt made him feel better when the wars bothered him, so Mom wanted him to garden as much as he needed to, and so did I. Besides, somebody had to look after Grandma in between the hospice nurse visits. Dad was kind of a reverse babysitter now.
    I stared out my window, watching University Avenue whiz past, house by house. Some were old like ours, with columns and steep roofs and spindly railed balconies off upstairs doors. Other houses seemed way too new, crammed on top of bits of grass like somebody barely fit the foundations to the yards. Oxford had turned into a weird mix of really old stuff and really new stuff, since a lot of people decided to come live here. Dad told me that when all the newcomers started building houses, nobody thought about protecting historic homesand buildings that didn’t get burned down when a Civil War general’s soldiers got drunk and torched the town square in the 1800s.
    Houses gave way to trees and more trees, and then sidewalks, and then we passed by the brick gate that said University of Mississippi and 1848 . Not long after that, we passed two people that made me go stiff in my seat. Just a boy my age, dressed in jeans and a navy T-shirt, and an old lady like Grandma. She was wearing jeans too, and an obnoxious black and yellow striped shirt, along with a fedora that didn’t match anything at all. She leaned on the boy’s arm, and used a cane too. Aw, how cute. That’s what poor unsuspecting fools would think if they saw the two of them walking, and they didn’t know.
    They would be so wrong .
    Mom cleared her throat, and I jumped. I realized her eyes were darting back and forth to the rearview, and she squinted. “Was that Avadelle Richardson and Mackinnon?”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” I said, only my voice cracked on the ma’am , and my face flushed hot.
    The navy T-shirt was probably the one with the glow-in-the-dark skull on it. He liked to wear it when he played his electric guitar at school band club. Music meant everything to Mac, or so he’d told me. But he also used to say I was his friend. Who knew if anything Worm Dung said was the truth?
    Mom only missed two beats before she said, “No boy is worth all this grief, Dani, especially not at your age.”
    My face got even hotter as I closed my eyes. We swept around University Circle and plunged into the flickering shade of the big oaks and magnolias. I knew where we were from the dark-light, dark-light, dancing off my eyelids.
    â€œWorm Dung isn’t a boy,” I muttered. “I mean, like a boyfriend. It’s just—I thought he was my friend. Almost a best friend.” I gestured at the car window. “Best friends are supposed to be like you and Ms. Wilson, or me and Indri. Best friends aren’t supposed to turn into people who never speak to each other again, like Grandma and Avadelle. Stupid feud. I mean, did you see any reporters following Avadelle and Worm Dung around? It was just one article—and it’s not even our circus or our monkeys, right?”
    â€œI see,” Mom said, but I didn’t think she did. Her tone made me