He glances up the driveway as I open the door and toss my crutches out. “You know, Elias will probably let you off today if you want to just go home.”
“I’ll be fine, Dad.”
“But—”
“I’m fine,” I repeat, pushing myself out of his car. I grab my bookbag and close the door behind me. Dad doesn’t linger for very long, because he’s on a rather tight lunch break, but he does give me one last look—to make sure that I’m certain—before he drives off.
As I crutch my way up the driveway, I glance up to see if there’s any movement in Vance’s window, praying that he took Sansa out for a very long walk, and there’s nothing. Maybe he’s out exploring the town—for once.
I head into the kitchen, where Mr. Rodriguez is checking on something in the oven. “Whatever you’re cooking smells incredible,” I tell him as I dump my bookbag on the island barstool.
“It’s a secret tamale recipe passed down from my abuela,” he replies, wiping his hands on a towel that he then throws over his shoulder. He’s wearing a pale pink button-down today and gray chinos. “I made enough, if you want to stay for dinner.”
“My dad’s expecting me home. We’re having Chinese tonight.”
Mr. Rodriguez perks. “Oh? He cooks?”
I laugh. “I wish! I’m picking up Chinese from the place down the street, is what I meant. Their egg rolls are to die for.”
“Ooh, I’ve been meaning to try that place!”
“Highly recommend.” And then—though I don’t know why—I add, “Maybe we can all do dinner one night and order out.”
The moment those words leave my mouth, I think I should regret them, but I…don’t? Dad needs some friends, and Mr. Rodriguez looks about my dad’s age, but I really can’t tell with any man over twenty-five. They all look old to me, and it doesn’t help that he’s always smiling and whistling, and a part of me can’t believe that he hasn’t quit working for the likes of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named yet. He’s like a bubbly Hufflepuff.
Then again, I heard Slytherins and Hufflepuffs go together like peas in a pod.
Mr. Rodriguez grins. “I think that’s a great idea. We should plan that.”
“I’ll let him know.” My watch beeps. Four o’clock. “I should probably get to work.”
“Have fun!—Oh!” he adds as I turn toward the library. “The bathroom downstairs is out for the day. We’re having a plumber coming in to fix it but he hasn’t shown up yet,” Mr. Rodriguez says, wiping his hands on his KISS ME, I’M NOXIAN apron. “You can use Vance’s upstairs if you don’t mind the stairs? I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” he adds, eyeing my crutches.
“I’ll be fine,” I scoff in reply, because I can hold my pee with the best of them, and there’s no way I’m ever going back upstairs. My curiosity is sated, after all.
After what happened last night, I half expected Vance to order Mr. Rodriguez to fire me the second I walked in the door, but Mr. Rodriguez doesn’t seem to be doing that, so either Vance doesn’t hate me, or he has no power over me.
I like the second option even better than the first, really.
Doing anything in the library today ends up being an absolute pain. I end up propping my crutches against one of the chairs and just taking it slow as I unpack a series of fantasy books from one of the boxes. The volume I had been looking for yesterday ended up being at the bottom of a stack of books on the desk, which was fun to discover, but I push that out of my head—along with the thought that maybe it wasn’t Mr. Rodriguez who took the books off the top shelf for me the other day—and work.
Around 5:30 p.m., however, the bottle of water I chugged after school creeps up on me. I tried it with a little of Quinn’s magic medicine, but I only used half of the packet and it tasted so bad I couldn’t bring myself to dump the rest in.
And now here I am, ready to pee myself because I don’t want to go upstairs to use Vance’s bathroom.
But I can’t suffer for another thirty minutes, so I make the hard decision: I will take a warp-speed pee break and return long before Vance ever comes home from his walk with Sansa and finds out that I went tinkle on his throne. With my crutches in tow, I quickly hurry my way across the house and up the stairs to the second floor, to the bathroom at the end of the hall.
I close the door behind me and quickly do my business. There’s shaving cream on the bathroom counter, and toothpaste, mouthwash, a cheap razor—all the things my dad has on his bathroom counter. With the exception of the orange hair wrap sitting on the sink.
After I wash my hands, I turn to leave when I realize the packet of orange not-Kool-Aid has fallen out of my pocket. I pick it up, about to stick it back into my jeans, when I realize I had forgotten that I had opened it a few hours ago. And…it goes everywhere.
“Crap!” I curse, grabbing the orange hair wrap, and scrub the powder out of the sink and the tiles before it has time to dye anything orange. Thank God it’s one of those fast-absorbing towels.
I don’t want to ruin anything else in this house.
Least of all the marble countertops.
AS I JOG BACK TOWARD THE HOUSE, I don’t see the eyesore of a hatchback, so the girl must not have come today. Did Elias actually fire her? Or even if she just decided not to show up, it doesn’t matter. I would be fine either way, I’m just glad she isn’t here.
I’m not quite sure how much longer I can stay out in this heat before I get heatstroke. It’s almost October and it has barely gotten below thirty-five degrees Celsius—erm, ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit, I guess.
“Tamales tonight,” Elias says, stopping me in the kitchen.
“Delicious.” I pluck out my earbuds and take the lead off Sansa. She springs into the living room with boundless energy and face-plants into the couch.
“You’ve been gone for a while.”
“Just out running,” I reply, opening the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. I unscrew it and toss the cap into the recycling by the island counter. The hair that fell out of my ponytail is sticking to my neck, and all I want to do is go take a shower.
Down the hall, the library door is open and I can hear—humming?
A chill curls down my spine.
“She’s still here?” I ask before I can rein my surprise in.
Elias blinks. “Well, of course. Her father hasn’t picked her up yet. She can’t drive herself.”
Ah. Right.
Stupid me. Of course Elias wouldn’t fire her.