Kate in Waiting Becky Albertalli (best way to read books TXT) 📖

politely and appropriately interested.” I sit up straighter. “Are you texting a girl?”

He flips his phone facedown.

“So, yes.”

“Are we done here?”

“Are you kicking me out?”

He scoffs. “I really should.”

Camilla cranes her neck up to lick Ryan’s chin, which, if you ask me, is just rude. No one asked her to take sides.

But a moment later, with no comment or preamble, Ryan takes his headphones off and unplugs them. Which makes the sound come through his laptop speakers.

And when I glance at him sidelong, he rolls his eyes—but he’s smiling.

Scene 44

On Friday, Mom calls me an hour before my alarm’s set to go off. Which is so unusual, I’m jolted instantly awake, my heart in my throat. “Everything okay? Mom?”

“Everything’s fine, sweetie. Good morning!” She sounds chipper. Like. What the fuck, Mom?

“Why are you calling me at six?”

“Well.” She pauses, and I hear coffee-grinding noises in the background. “I’d like us to have a family meeting.”

“Um. What?”

We’re not a family meeting kind of family. I don’t even know the protocol for family meetings. Do they have to be scheduled? Apparently they do. Apparently they have to be scheduled at six in the morning on a Friday, out of nowhere.

“Maybe you and your brother could swing home this morning? Whenever you can.”

Home. Mom always does that—refers to her house as home, and I never know how to feel about it.

“So . . . you want me to wake up Ryan?”

“No, he’s up. I just called him. I just wanted to make sure we’re all on the same page. You don’t have an algebra test, right? I’m worried we’ll be a little late getting you guys back to school.”

“Mom.” I blink up at my canopy. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing bad, sweetie! I just need to talk to you guys about something. Okay, I’m going to let you go get dressed. Love you. See you in a bit!”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m in Ryan’s passenger seat. “This is weird,” I inform him, stretching the seat belt over my chest. Stellar outfit today: the sweatpants from last night, and the old ringer tee I mostly use for painting sets. “You don’t think this is weird?”

“Oh, it’s weird.” Ryan yawns, checking the rearview.

“I’m so freaked out. I swear, I thought she was going to say she’s in the hospital or something. Or that something happened to Charles or Camilla.”

“The dogs are at Dad’s house.”

“I know, but it was like six in the morning. I wasn’t thinking straight. Anyway, what do you think this is about?”

Ryan shrugs.

“It has to be important, right? Like if it had to happen today, right now. That’s kind of—and then she says we might be late for first period? She told you that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think—” I cut myself off, cheeks burning, and thankfully, Ryan doesn’t press it. It’s such a stupid thought, anyway. Doesn’t even make sense. If Mom wanted to have some new phase of The Talk, there’s literally no reason for this level of urgency. Plus, Mom’s always been pointedly casual about sex talks. She’s more into the sneak attack, like hey how was school, honey, want to learn about birth control? So calling us at six in the morning on a school day isn’t really her MO. But maybe Mom found out about the kiss at rehearsal and it got her thinking about sex and she totally lost her chill. I guess it could happen. Maybe? Except I’d kind of rather that talk didn’t happen in front of Ryan.

We park in the driveway but walk in through the garage—and right away, there’s Mom at the kitchen table, waiting for us. She looks mostly normal. Maybe a little rattled. I cut right to the chase. “What’s going on?”

“Well.” Mom gestures to the kitchen chairs. “Why don’t you two sit down?”

“Mom! What?” Now my heart’s banging all around my rib cage again. Sit down. Isn’t that a thing you say when you’re about to deliver bad news? I know I’m lucky, because I haven’t gotten a lot of why-don’t-you-sit-down news in my life. Maybe three times—when my zayde died, the day Mom and Dad announced the divorce, and the day after the 2016 election.

So yeah. This isn’t good.

But Mom seems to sense what I’m thinking, because she touches my arm. “Katypie, everyone’s fine. I just wanted to fill you both in on something that happened yesterday, and then run something by you.” She smiles slightly. “Okay, so I know you both know my friend Ellen.”

“Matt’s mom.”

“Oh, right—and you had your rehearsal yesterday! I heard you had a blackout.”

“Ellen told you that?”

My stomach twists, just a little. Like. Uh. What else did Ellen tell her? How much does Matt tell Ellen?

“So, yesterday, the storm knocked down this big tree in Ellen and Matt’s backyard, and it went right into Matthew’s bedroom, unfortunately. He’s okay,” Mom adds quickly. “He was actually at rehearsal.”

And suddenly, chillingly, I remember the half dozen phone calls Matt missed from his mom.

“Ellen’s okay?” I ask, after a moment.

“Oh, yes. They’re both absolutely fine. And luckily, there’s a deck, which broke the tree’s fall a little bit.” She demonstrates, flattening her hand horizontally like the deck, and tilting her other arm down at the elbow like the tree. “Like this. Anyway. Could have been a lot worse, and they have renter’s insurance. All good. But there’s a fairly large hole in Matt’s bedroom.”

“That’s so scary.”

“I know. It’s so lucky he was at rehearsal.”

“Yeah.” I exhale. “Yeah.”

“Anyway.” Mom clasps her hands on the table. “Last night, they stayed in a hotel room, but obviously that’s not a long-term solution. So I hope it’s okay, I’ve talked a little bit with Ellen about having them stay here with us. It would just be for a couple of weeks, while they get everything sorted—”

“You mean here?” My voice comes out almost choked. “Like our house?”

I’m sorry, but what? What?

“Yes, here.” Mom looks vaguely amused. “I’ve called out of work so I can clear all the junk out of the guest room. So, we have