[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.“He got a show, huh?”“Yeah, he did—can you believe that?”“Yes, I can,” she says in a kind of faraway voice.“But.But I’ve got to go now.Let me call you back.”“All right.Okay.I can’t wait to see you.”“Right, I’ll call you.”“But you don’t have my number.Let me give you my number.”“No.I’ll call you back.I’ve got to go now.”I am silent.“Okay?” she says.It hits me that her voice is only vaguely familiar.Like something I heard in a dream.“Okay.” I feel impatient suddenly.“Don’t forget, Mom.”“No.” I can hear in her voice how badly she wants to get off the phone.“Promise?”“Yes.Bye.”I don’t want her to go.“You said you were coming back.202In my card.Remember?”“Oh.” She laughs again.“I did say that.That’s right.But, Sheridan, honey, I’ve really got to go now, really, things are just getting going here.”“So you’ll call me?”“Right.So.okay, good-bye?” “Okay.Bye.”And that’s it.She’s gone.I put the phone down.Fal backward onto my bed.That was not what I thought it would be.At al.But she’s going to cal back.She promised.I reach into my bag, grab the blue velvet box, and pull out Jack’s bracelet.I fasten it around my wrist.Rub the bird between my fingers like a good luck charm.I will not cry.Will not.She said she’d call back.She promised, didn’t she? I play back the conversation in my head.I can’t remember.Did she promise?I roll the velvet box around in my hand, take out Jack’s note.Hope you get what you real y want.I close my eyes, tight, until I see funny shapes and colors behind my eyelids.She promised to call me.That’s what I really want.I want my mother to keep a promise, for once.203Chapter 17gum up the worksSo when is she going to call? It’s Tuesday.I can’t sit by the phone all day, waiting for her.But when I check the messages at home, check the caller ID, there’s nothing.As far as I know, she doesn’t have my cell phone number, but I check it constantly anyway, just in case.The Suits have a full agenda for me this week: they’ll film me working on the cake tonight, then I have a wardrobe fitting tomorrow night, and there’s more crap on Thursday.Whatever.And to make matters worse, Ethan hasn’t been in school.He texted me to say that he has a cold.Then Mrs.Ely actually called my father yesterday and ratted me out on the art project, telling him that it’s 50 percent of my semester grade.Thanks a lot, Mrs.E.And now I have to show him my work every night, like I’m six years old.So I’ve been going over to Growly’s garden, frantically sketching the spring flowers.Surprisingly, Dad doesn’t seem too mad about the project, and he hasn’t said a word about our fight in the hospital, or even punished me for planning the whole Chicago trip.I figure he’s waiting until the show is over, so he can be sure I’ll behave, and then he’ll slam me.All of these things are particularly annoying to me today, and I head to the bakery after school in a wonderful mood.As I finish up the birthday cake for little four-year-old Logan Ellis, Dad walks in the back door.I’m concentrating on some muddy tracks for the monster truck I’ve already sculpted and covered with fondant.Nothing too complicated.Roz walks in with a tray of cookies.He’s cleaning out the case for the day.“Jakup.” Dad nods at him.“Ah, Donovan.Good to see you.” He walks over to Dad, grabs his hand in both of his, and gives his signature shake and wide smile.“How is Lilian today?”“Much better.They think she’ll be out of the ICU soon.In fact, I’m taking Sheridan to see her now.”I stand up straight.“What? No.I don’t have time.” This is the truth, but I’m also a little nervous.It’s not that I don’t miss Nanny; I just don’t want to see her all zoned out with tubes sticking out everywhere.“I need 205to start the gumballs and work on the hibiscus flowers”“Gumballs?”“Yeah.” I go back to my monster truck.“An engagement party.They met at a gumball machine or something.”“Gumballs? Christ, what will these people think of next?I thought I told you not to take any more cakes this week?”“It was already on the books.And I gotta have it done on Thursday so I can finish the cake for my fake birthday party.” There’s a sharp edge to my voice.“Can you handle it? And your schoolwork?”I am so not in the mood for this today.“It’s not rocket science, Dad.They’re gumballs.”“How’s the cake for your party coming?”“The cake is made.I’ll cover it on Thursday and finish the flowers between now and then.”“Well, remember, it doesn’t have to taste good; it just has to look good.”I glare at him [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]