yet he headed for Cori’s room, anyway. If he couldn’t explain to Cori how much help Sophia really needed, he could at least make her feel guilty for her behavior.
The door to the pink room stood open and several shopping bags littered the floor. What was all this stuff? Then Blake noticed the two six-packs of expensive, imported beer on the desk.
The kid was staring at the television while Cori opened her laptop.
“Busy morning?” Blake asked, allowing sarcasm to weigh down his words when what he really wanted to do was raise his voice and ask her what the hell she’d been doing. But a promise to Sophia was to be honored.
“We needed to buy something blue,” the kid said solemnly. He pulled a large blue pillow out of a bag, then wrestled it to the floor and flopped on top of it. “And buy some beer. Mommy buys a lot of beer.”
Blake took a deep, controlling breath and searched Cori’s features carefully. Did Cori have a drinking problem? Was that why Sophia didn’t want him to interfere?
Cori’s computer booted up with a series of beeps. Ignoring his tone, she stared at the small black machine intently, as if it might disappear if her gaze strayed. “Thank you for watching Mama. She was asleep when we left and Luke was around. Is he still here?” she asked with a nervous laugh and a quick glance up at Blake.
“He’s not here, is he. I thought for sure he’d stay.” Cori frowned. “Okay. I’ll sit with her once I send this e-mail.”
“If you’re up to it.” If she was sober. How did he know Cori hadn’t stopped off at some bar somewhere or had lunch and drinks while they were out? Blake considered asking her outright if she had a problem. He’d be right there to help her if she did. But being a Messina, she’d probably just hide the problem and refuse his help.
Cori tilted her head and regarded him carefully. “Why wouldn’t I be up to it?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that you’ve always put yourself first and I can see that hasn’t changed.” Blake kept his voice low. That first summer Cori followed him everywhere during the day although she claimed to have come home from school to work. As if going out at night with her family was work. Blake gave a snort of disgust. He’d had plenty of time over the years to analyze Cori’s behavior and pinpoint her deficiencies. In spite of her warmth and vibrancy, Cori did what she wanted when she wanted.
Cori’s eyes dropped to the floor as though his words had the power to wound her. For a moment, his resolve wavered. After all, it was her mother dying down the hall.
“Go ahead and send that e-mail. I’m sure it’s real important,” he added, just to see if she really was the ice princess he’d made her out to be. If she crumpled, he’d be sorry. But not sorry enough to offer her a comforting shoulder to lean on. That route led to certain disaster, no matter how strongly it beckoned.
Cori’s eyes swept the floor, and then she gathered a shuddering breath and transformed into Mr. Messina’s granddaughter. The line of her mouth became uncharacteristically firm. Hands drew to rest on softly curved hips. Her brown eyes met his with the veneer of indifference she’d worn yesterday in the driveway.
“Yes, I was shopping. Thank you for noticing. I do all the public relations for Nightshade. Occasionally, when I’m stuck, I like to look at their packaging. Now, if you don’t mind, I have other things to do to make sure I can pay the rent this month.”
Because he was out of line, way off base and embarrassed beyond belief, Blake performed an abrupt about-face and exited the pink room. He slid the pocket door to the back stairs open on its silent coasters and retreated to the vineyards.
JENNIFER SAT IN THE public library with her best friend, Shelly Broder. They were supposed to be working on their social studies project—a report on the life of Chinese teenagers—but Jen’s stomach hurt and she found it hard to concentrate. Doodles covered her lined notebook page. She pretty much lived with a knotted stomach every day. As unobtrusively as possible, she placed a hand over the button of her jeans. The pain got worse whenever she thought about Sophia.
Shelly nudged Jen under the table and then looked pointedly toward the door of the library.
Devon Hamlisch came in with his social studies partner and closest friend, Skyler Wight. Devon was the cutest boy in junior high school, with his short dark hair, deep blue eyes and cool swagger. His smile made Jen go all fluttery inside. Not that he smiled at Jen very often.
Devon and Skyler were jocks, so they were part of the popular crowd. Playing on a school sports team practically guaranteed you were “in.” Even Flavio Martinez, who’d been the fat kid everybody picked on just last year, made the seventh-grade flag football team and was suddenly cool.
Kids like Jen and Shelly, who were too uncoordinated to be a cheerleader or play girls basketball, were stuck in the ditch of unpopularity. It didn’t help that Jen and Shelly were about as developed as a fence post. Jen was still in a training bra and she was almost thirteen years old. There was no hope of Devon Hamlisch smiling at Jen anytime soon. The social lines were clearly drawn.
Devon and Skyler walked past table after table, ever closer to Jen and Shelly. Jen couldn’t believe it. Devon Hamlisch and Skyler Wight were going to sit with them. She tried to look calm, as if popular boys walked up to her every day, but her hands began to shake and her eyes widened.
What do I say when they sit down?
Then, at the last moment, the two boys turned away and sat at the table next to them, where Veronica Anderson and Kitten Alley had been giggling for an hour. Jen should have known. Ronnie and Kitten were both cheerleaders. They wore stylish low-waisted jeans and tight sweaters that hugged their small breasts. Jen hoped they’d get an F on their social studies assignment.
“We’re such dorks,” Shelly whispered, obviously having been caught in the same fantasy as Jen.
Jen nodded her head in miserable agreement and pretended to return her attention to the book in front of her. No matter how hard she tried, the words weren’t sinking in. She didn’t want to let Shelly down, but Jen just couldn’t seem to focus lately.
A few minutes later, Shelly nudged Jen and motioned almost frantically for her to look toward Devon’s table.
Devon leaned back into his chair, a thin strand of pink gum linking his mouth to Ronnie’s. The gum stretched too far and broke apart, hanging like two lizards’ tongues from each of their mouths. Devon, Ronnie and Kittie dissolved into near-silent laughter.
The librarian stared menacingly from her post behind the desk. Skyler glanced at Jen and shrugged almost apologetically, his fingers fanning the pages of his book.
“Oh. My. God. That’s disgusting,” Shelly whispered, pulling Jen’s attention back to her own table.
It was the grossest thing Jen had ever seen in her life. And yet she yearned with all of her adolescent being to trade places with Ronnie.
“Let’s go. Blake should be outside.” Jen closed her notebook. She didn’t think she’d ever felt like such an outsider. She wanted to go home and play her music really loud. At least while she sang alone in her room, she felt like she belonged somewhere.
The two girls walked out of the library, hugging their notebooks to their slim chests as if the bound paper could hide the fact that they lacked cleavage. Sometimes Jen thought her plain brown hair, gray eyes and pale skin made her invisible, like a ghost to boys like Devon.
Jen stepped out of the library first and skipped down the steps with Shelly right behind her, anticipating Blake pulling up in his new, shiny black pickup truck. At least her brother had the decency to own such a smooth vehicle. He wasn’t so bad. Some of her friends even thought he was cute. Maybe Devon would come outside and see Jen get into the truck. Jen smiled, imagining Devon salivating over her cool ride.
A faded, dented truck that looked a lot like their old one pulled up to the curb. It even sported a big gray spot of primer in the back. Thank heavens Jennifer knew