Pasadena Read Online Free Page B

“You’re too good for them.”
    It was my turn to laugh, a tightly held little snort. I wanted to hug her back.
    I slap my hand against the wall and come awake, sweating. My phone is ringing, buzzing from my backpack. Someone is knocking on my door.
    â€œHoney? Are you in there?”
    I ignore the door and grab the phone. It goes to voice mail as I slide it open.
    A text appears. Joey is parked outside. “Shit.” I comb my hair out of my face and wipe my sweat onto my pillow.
    It’s not dark yet, but a breeze has picked up. I feel it filtering through my window. My room is small at the best of times, enough space for a twin bed, a closet, and a dresser that doubles as a desk. In summertime, the bed is like a coffin and the window seems to shrink down to a pinhole, for all the air it lets in.
    I get up, change into jeans and a new top. I grab a hoodie and open the door.
    â€œHi, Mom,” I say. “Gotta run.”
    She blinks at me with the same eyes I see in the mirror every day. Daddy might be long gone, but there’s no hiding who my mother is.
    â€œOh. So soon?” she asks. “I thought Roy and I could take you to dinner.” She reaches a hand out to touch my shoulder. “You know, talk.” Her voice is soft with velvet empathy. God, how I hate that tone.
    â€œCan’t,” I say. “Joey’s here. We’re having a wake.”
    â€œA wake? Oh . . . well, then we’ll go with you. You know I loved Maggie like a daughter.”
    I smile. As her real daughter, I know exactly what that’s worth. Way too little, far too late.
    â€œHoney, that face looks ghastly. But you’re grieving.” My mother criticizes and reverses with economic speed. “Come on, I’ll take you and maybe Roy can join us.”
    Her hand is on my shoulder like a small, persistent hug. I shake my head. “Joey’s already here. Kids only.”
    My mother sighs like she’s just finished the dishes and I’m piling more into the sink. She lets go of my shoulder. “All right, then. Do you need money?”
    Before I can answer, she’s dug into her purse and is peeling off bills. She shoves two twenties at me, then adds another, the way some parents might add a kiss on the forehead—firmly pressed and dry against the skin. I fleethrough the front door, barely registering the empty sofa or the fallen can drained of beer.
    â€œLet’s go,” I say, but Joey’s a good getaway man. He’s already starting the car. I pull the door closed behind me.
    His eyes flick off the road for a second. “Everything all right?” I shrug and burrow into my seat. Joey looks at me. “Jude?”
    â€œWhat?”
    He turns his attention back toward the road. Here it comes, the unsaid question. The chance to explain myself. If only I could. But Joey skips the heart of the problem and goes for the jugular instead.
    â€œMaggie said your mom’s boyfriend is a dick. That’s why you and I . . . why we . . . That’s why you went back east this summer.” He stumbles over the politics of us. The same line we’d been stumbling over since the spring. “If he’s still being a dick, I want to know.”
    My stomach takes a dive. I laugh and shake my head. Seven lousy weeks and Maggie couldn’t keep her mouth shut. I want to tell Joey to fuck off. Ask about us, sure, about what went wrong. But this Roy crap is none of his business. If Maggie meant to protect me, she should’ve stuck around, not blabbed about it.
    How much did she tell him? Enough for him to worryabout me. But is it also enough for him to understand me too?
    I let go of the breath I’ve been holding. Poor Joey. I’m angry at Maggie, but she’s gone, and he’s right here. Hurting him won’t punish her.
    â€œIt’s fine,” I say, and I hear my voice crack. I clear my throat and buckle my seat