Marianne Elizabeth Hammer (top young adult novels TXT) 📖

Patrick crossed his arms over his knees and collapsed forward, banging his head onto his forearms repeatedly. “Yes, Marianne. Yes.”

“Yes, what?” she said, biting her lip.

“Yes,” he sighed, banging his head again. “Yes, we are back together. I love you even though you have got to be the most frustrating creature alive, and we are back together. Satisfied?”

Marianne smiled broadly in the dark. “I am.”

She heard him sigh dramatically.

“Wait, no,” she said. “One more thing.”

“What?”

“Show me your tattoo.”

“No,” he said, sitting up again. “I have a sinister side now, and I like torturing you.” He shifted so that he was seated cross-legged facing her, and she did likewise.

“Please,” she whined. “Let me fix the lamp real quick. Please?”

“Actually,” he said, a laugh in his voice, “I’ve got one for that.”

“One what?”

“A question,” said Patrick. “Tell me, Marianne, how many Goths does it take to change a light bulb?”

“You are the worst.”

“None.” Patrick reached out and traced his fingers along her face. “They just embrace the darkness.”

32

Epilogue

Patrick

March 2009

The external screen of Patrick’s Sony Ericsson W300i flip-phone glowed orange with a new text message from Marianne.

I’m almost home from work. You’d better be there. I’m serious.

Patrick snapped his phone shut and stuck it in his pocket. He was already at her house, trimming the Yorks’ overgrown shade tree so Marianne wouldn’t have to hurt her feet on the spiky seeds anymore. For reasons he could not understand, she always refused to put on shoes when taking out the trash. He heard her pull up to the curb behind him and then slam the car door with much more force than usual. Uh-oh. He turned around and watched her stomp up the driveway carrying a grocery bag.

“Get your keister inside, Devlin,” she said with as much menace as she was capable of, but it wasn’t very much. He smiled. She thought she was so scary.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, dropping the tree trimmer to show how very concerned he was. “Another mean client?”

Marianne stopped a few feet in front of him and cocked her head to the side, tossing her hair off her shoulder. “You remember the day we got together?”

“Yes.”

She nodded. “Remember those condoms Dark Lord Alvin left on my pillow?”

Ah yes, the lime candies. He tried not to smile. “I remember.”

Marianne shook her head back and forth. “You so wish you never threw those away.”

Patrick didn’t feel like smiling anymore.

Marianne nodded and tossed him the grocery bag.

He caught it. There was a little pink box inside with plus and minus signs on it.

“Come on,” she said, marching toward the house. “Let’s do this.”

He watched her go, mouth hanging open. She caught her foot on the last step and cussed. She was so sweet; so small and neurotic and beautiful… what had he done? James and Sophie were going to rip his throat out. As soon as he could get his legs to move, Patrick met her by the bathroom. It was about fifty years later. “Um, so what do you…” His voice was sounding a little girly, so he swallowed and started again. “So do you have to pee on this or something?”

“How the hell should I know?” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Didn’t you read the instructions? What have you been doing?”

Patrick fumbled the box out of the bag and opened it carefully. Were these things fragile? Should he wear gloves? Ahh, he had to sit down. He crossed the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub. “Okay,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he was whispering, but it felt right. “Um, yeah… You can just go right on it, or you can use a cup.” He popped the transparent blue cap off the stick and handed it to her.

She took it, and he started to walk out of the room, but she grabbed his shirt. “I don’t think so, mister. I’m not doing this by myself.” She closed the door and started unbuttoning her jeans. “Besides, you’ve seen it all before right?”

Patrick covered his face with his hands and nodded. He seemed to lose consciousness for a moment and then opened his eyes to see Marianne flushing the toilet and pulling her black panties and jeans back up. Also, he was sitting on the floor. How’d he get there?

Marianne shook her head at him and handed him the stick, the cap back in place. She opened the bathroom door and swung it back and forth like she was trying to give him some air. “You all right?” she asked, giving him a half-smile. “I think I lost you for a minute there.”

Patrick nodded and carefully set the stick on the bathroom tile in front of him. Marianne checked the time on her cell phone and sat down cross-legged across from him. They both stared at the stick, watching the liquid crawl its way across the two little windows. “Why are there two windows?” said Patrick.

“I don’t know,” said Marianne, snatching up the instruction sheet. “Are they for girls or boys?”

“One is a control,” said a voice from the door. “It means the test isn’t defective.”

Patrick slowly lifted his head and saw Marianne’s mother staring down at them. He swallowed. “Sophie…” he said. But that was all he had. What the hell could he say to her?

“Don’t pass out,” said Marianne, patting his knee. “I told her the next day. She knew we might have to do this.”

Patrick still thought he might pass out, but he nodded. He should have expected that; Marianne told everyone everything now.

Marianne seemed to read his thoughts. “You’ve created a monster,” she said, smiling. Then she lifted her eyebrows. “Maybe two.”

Patrick just blinked. He may have just ruined her life, and she was making jokes. Was she having a breakdown? Patrick looked at Sophie for help, but she wasn’t looking at him.

She was looking at the test. “That second line is pink, kids.”

Marianne grabbed her phone. “But the three minutes aren’t up yet,” she