Page 6 - My FlipBook

“No,” I snap, “it’s a Six Sssssssss,” as if the S makes

all the difference. I think of the cell phone Mom
bought me “for emergencies only,” and I’m pretty
sure it’s much less than a Six.
“My dad just bought me the Twelve,” Morgan’s
friend boasts. He pats the pocket of his plaid button-
down, his beloved treasure peeking out from the
top. “It cost like a thousand bucks, but it’s worth it.”
“Cool,” I say with as little enthusiasm as possible.
My dad walked out on us nine months ago and never

looked back.
“Can we see it?” Morgan asks.
Even the usually silent Jason perks up, rising
from his default slouched position and pushing his
shaggy hair aside. As my step-cousins pore over the
Twelve, I wonder what favor Mom must need from
Aunt Rachel that inspired this nightmare of a meal.

George was smart to get out when he could.
I take another bite of my pizza and wonder where
he might have gone. When I first realized he’d left,
Mom said that I made him disappear. It was my fault
George was gone. “No one’s stopping Greg from
coming back but you,” she said, as if it were that
simple. I could’ve told her the same thing about Dad,
but I didn’t.

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