Don't Stay Up Late Read Online Free Page A

that’s not true. You know this is only temporary. I’m sure that as time passes—”
    â€œMom, I really think it will help me if I go back to school.”
    Mom sighed again. “It’s four in the morning. I know you’ve just had a frightening night. Do you really want to have this discussion now?”
    â€œI don’t want a discussion at all,” I said. “I just want to go back to school. I … I haven’t seen any of my friends. And all because you say I’m not ready.”
    â€œIt’s not me,” Mom snapped. “It’s Dr. Shein. She’s the trained psychiatrist. She’s been working with you since the hospital.”
    â€œBut, Mom—”
    â€œI think we should listen to her advice, don’t you? I know how frustrated you are. But she feels you have to work out some of your grief, some of your guilty feelings before you can go back to your normal life.”
    â€œWow. That’s a mouthful, Mom. Have you been practicing that answer all day?”
    She took a step back. I could see that I’d hurt her. I didn’t really mean to sound that angry and sarcastic. Where did that come from?
    Maybe Dr. Shein was right. Maybe I wasn’t fit to see other people yet.
    I’m going to rely on her, I decided. She’s been so wonderful to talk to. I’ll do whatever she thinks best.
    â€œSorry, Mom,” I blurted out quickly. “I didn’t mean—”
    â€œLet’s try to get back to sleep,” she said.
    *   *   *
    The next day was a cloudy, gray Saturday, gathering storm clouds low in the sky. Outside our front window, the whole world appeared in somber shades of gray, which fit my mood perfectly.
    At breakfast, Mom said it was okay for Nate to come over, and he showed up a little after eleven. I greeted him with an awkward hug. I could see he was nervous.
    â€œHey,” he said. “You look good.”
    â€œLiar.” I had circles around my eyes from so little sleep. And I’d lost at least ten pounds. I just didn’t have any appetite.
    We sat down on the low green leather armchairs across from one another in the den. He kept gazing at me, studying me as if he’d never seen me before. And his right leg kept tapping up and down, like he was really tense.
    We’d been texting and we did some video chats, but it was different being in the same room with him. Sure, I was happy to see him. But it was hard to get a conversation started. I felt like someone had built a tall picket fence between us, and we were trying to talk over the fence.
    â€œSorry about your dad,” Nate said, lowering his eyes to the white carpet.
    I should have just said thank you or nodded and kept silent. But I felt a burst of anger. “I can’t talk about it,” I said, my voice cracking. “My dad is dead, and it’s all my fault.”
    Nate actually flinched. As if I’d hit him.
    â€œSorry,” I muttered. “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.”
    â€œIt isn’t true,” he said finally. “It wasn’t your fault, Lisa. He was driving—not you. He caused the accident. You can’t blame yourself.”
    â€œHa,” I said bitterly.
    The phone rang. I heard Mom hurry to answer it in the kitchen.
    I stood up and climbed onto Nate’s lap. I thought maybe if he held me for a while I could lift myself from this dark mood.
    Nate put his arms around me. I snuggled my face against his cheek. I could hear Mom talking on the phone.
    â€œEvery time it rings, I think it’s someone calling to say they found Morty,” I told Nate. I sighed. “My poor dog. He ran out of the car and just kept running. He was so scared. And now it’d been nearly two weeks.…”
    Nate tightened his arms around me. “He’ll turn up, Lisa.”
    I shoved his arms away and jumped to my feet. “Give me a break!” I cried. “Stop being so