“Want my chocolate bar? Mom packed a Snickers today.” He held it up and waved it in front of my face. I grabbed it and immediately started munching on it.
“There’s a stupid dance this weekend,” I mumbled around the caramelly goodness.
“So? Just don’t go.” He shrugged like it was no big deal when I was the only girl in our school without a father. Talk about embarrassing.
“It’s a father-daughter dance.”
“Dads are overrated,” he grumbled, and I knew he was still upset about his dad missing yet another baseball game. But at least his dad came home every night. They had dinner together, and he didn’t have to move or eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for every freaking meal.
“I’m going to be the only one who doesn’t go, and everyone will talk about me on Monday morning.”
“Since when did you care about what everyone else thinks? Did they come to your birthday party? No. Did they say anything nice to you when he left? No. Has anyone even tried to be your friend this year? Again, no. Stop caring about the girls. You have me, and you’ll always have me,” he said, munching on his sandwich.
“Says who? You’ve been ditching me to hang out with Hunter and Graham.” I pointed out, still butt hurt over finding out I wasn’t cool enough to hang out with him and hisnewfriends.
“Dude, chill. They were teaching me some tricks for the next game. You know, in case my dad comes,” he admitted softly.
“Still don’t see why I couldn’t join you. Are you embarrassed of me?”
He immediately shook his head. “Of course not. You’re my best friend. Just didn’t think you’d want to hang out and watch us play baseball all day.”
The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and I groaned. This was my favorite part of the day. The twenty minutes I got to spend with Griffin. Twenty freaking minutes of admiring hiseyes and his hair and loving the way he always gave me his chocolate bar.
Mom said I had a crush on him. I hoped I wasn’t the only one. I’d read books and watched movies about friends who turned into more, and I could only dream of Griffin looking at me like I was more than just his best friend.
The rest of the week absolutely dragged. I had to listen to all the girls talk about their dresses, the matching ties their dads were going to wear, and all the cool things that would happen at the dance.
By Friday lunchtime, I was completely miserable. And Griffin was late for lunchagain. Which was becoming a daily occurrence because he had to stop by Graham and Hunter’s lunch table first, and then he’d make his way to ours. Not sure why he didn’t just invite them to our table. There were two extra seats, but he seemed adamant about keeping them separate from me.
When he finally slumped down in the seat beside me, I put my hand out for today’s chocolate bar, and he laughed. “What if it’smyfavorite flavor today?”
“Too bad. You’re late, and you know the rules.” He rolled his eyes and handed over the Milky Way, which was indeed his favorite. I smirked as I slowly ate the chocolate bar, moaning with every bite to make him feel bad. “Oh, this is sooo good. You want a bite? Wait, just kidding!” I stuffed the last bite in my mouth and enjoyed the glare forming on his face.
“You’re a brat.” He rummaged through the rest of his lunch, threw me a bag of cookies his mom packed, and bit into his usual apple.
“You love me anyway.”
He rolled his eyes and then focused on a group of girls at a table across from us. He didn’t usually pay the girls any attention.This was new, and my heart immediately sank. “What are we doing after school?” I asked, getting his attention again.
“I have plans with the boys,” he said casually, looking anywhere but at me.
The boys…
“Another Friday you’re ditching me? Jeez, what gives?”
“Maybe you need to learn how to make some friends,” he spat, and my jaw dropped.
“Whatever.” I stood from the table, grabbed my backpack, and ran before he could see the tears falling down my cheeks.
Mom worked late on Friday nights, so I walked home alone from the bus, let myself into the house with the spare key we kept hidden under a turtle statue in the front garden, and scoured through the cabinets looking for anything fun to eat while I binge watched whatever TV show was playing on cable.
But alas, all we had was peanut butter, jelly, and white bread. Mom really needed to go grocery shopping.
She was working herself ragged the last couple weeks, and I had heard her on the phone with Dad, pleading for his child support money, whatever that was, but the conversation seemed futile because no money came.
Picking up my phone, I dialed the number I had memorized by heart and waited, wondering if Dad would answer an unknown number.
“This is Lawrence Grace,” he answered eventually, and I got scared and hung up, paced the kitchen, glanced at the empty cabinets, and called back. “Who is this?” he answered immediately.
