“Okay.” She swiped her finger over her phone a few times. “What’s her number?”
Knowing Pressly wouldn’t want me giving her number to a stranger, I offered to take hers instead.
“Have her call me ASAP,” she said. “If Summer can’t come for the sleepover, I’ll have to invite someone else,” she warned.
“I’ll be sure to tell her.”
Chelsea took a few steps back from the car. “By the way, you have to cut your engine.”
“What?”
“Our kids breathe here,” she said, spreading her arms as wide as her smile.
I pressed the button to roll up the window, then turned off the car. Chelsea gave me the thumbs-up sign as she opened the door to the Suburban and stepped up on the running board. I smiled and returned Chelsea’s thumbs-up gesture, but I’d rather have been giving her another finger.
She’d just cost me precious reading time.
“Did you bring Aslan?”Summer asked when she opened the car door.
“No,” I said. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said, as if expecting to be disappointed. A frown settled over her delicate features.
“Hungry?” I offered her the healthy snack her mother had packed.
Summer shrugged and stared out the window.
“We can stop for ice cream if you want. There’s enough time.”
Summer didn’t spare me a glance. “I’m not allowed to eat ice cream before ballet,” she said. “It’s junk food.”
“Oh? I thought it was one of the major food groups.”
Summer shook her head, entirely too serious. “I don’t think so.”
We were quiet for a minute as I maneuvered the car through after-school traffic. “So. Ballet, huh? You like it?”
Summer shrugged again.
“I took dance as a kid, too,” I said. “I was horrible.” I had been worse than horrible. I’d been terrified of the dance teacher, Madame Newberry, who used to crack our knuckles with a ruler if we missed a step. “Are you any good?”
“Not really.”
“Do you like it?”
“No.”
“What do you like?”
Another shrug.
“You like reading?”
She glanced at me warily. “I guess.”
“Me too.” I was struck with an idea as we turned onto Main Street. “We have a little time before ballet. Would you like to stop at Hyperbole’s?”
“The bookshop? Can we?” Summer’s eyes lit up, and I recognized the gleam of book lust. Being with Summer was like taking a trip back in time to my childhood when I’d escaped into my bookshelf to hide from my problems.
