Mick

Chapter Thirteen

We’re in my car in front of her place. I’ve turned off the engine. I lean over to kiss her, but I can tell something’s wrong. I sit back and look at her.

“Dalma?” I say.

“Yes?” Even yes is funny when she says it.

Her arms are folded on her lap.

It’s not the most inviting pose.

“Why you smile?” she says.

“I like you.”

She turns and looks out the windshield, as if there’s something to see other than some garbage bags out for tomorrow’s pickup.

“No,” she says. “I think you like Jade.” She pronounces it “Yade.”

I shake my head. I say, “No, no, no, no, no.”

I reach over and take her hand. “I know that’s what this looks like, but that’s wrong. It’s just Gavin. Her little brother. He’s sick. She needs my help. That’s all this is.”

I yammer on for a while. Dalma’s hand has gone kind of limp in mine. She doesn’t believe me. I tell her how long Jade and I went out, how we’re still friends, how I’m really close to Gavin—but that only makes it worse.

“Dalma, please,” I say.

I sit there, holding her hand, looking at her. After a while, she turns and looks at me too. I get the feeling that if I can say the right thing, it’ll be okay.

Her father’s strict. I’ve got ten minutes to make my case, then she has to be inside.

I think of Gavin, puking on the kitchen floor. I think of Jade and her pile of laundry and her lunches to make and her homework to do. I think of Quinn saying I’m not the only guy interested in Dalma.

I rub her fingers. They’re long and straight—I wasn’t surprised at all when she told me she plays the piano. I really like her.

“Dalma, I promise. This isn’t going to happen again. I’m going to take care of this.”