Today had been a peek into what the rest of my summer would look like. Of course, I still wanted to be respectful and give Oren time until he was ready to talk, but what if that was never? I looked at my mom. She tilted her head at me and frowned. Clearly she was expecting me to jump at the idea. Then I remembered that my plan was to never have a friend ever again anyway. So what did I care if Oren never talked?

I glanced at Oren. He nodded, which was surprising. I had figured he’d come with me that afternoon because of the ice cream. Or because he had nowhere else to go. He didn’t want to be my friend, did he? I sure hoped not. Even so, I couldn’t be mean to him—he’d just lost his parents, had gotten really hurt and had no one. Of course I would be nice to him.

“Fine.” I turned toward Jared. “We’re both okay with it.” I just hoped Oren didn’t think it meant we were going to be friends.

Because we weren’t.

Eleven

The second my eyes blinked open, I remembered. Today was the first day that Oren would be coming over.

We’d have the whole day together until his uncle picked him up after work.

Dad had promised to take us to a movie in the afternoon, which would be fun. Also, a movie meant a couple of hours where I didn’t have to figure out what to talk about.

I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. 7:19. Still lots of time to have breakfast, take a shower and get dressed before he arrived.

I threw off the covers just in time to hear the phone ring. Not my cell phone, but the house phone.

Someone had died. Because the only people who ever call that early are people who need my parents to help them with a funeral.

I slid my feet into my slippers and opened my bedroom door, listening. I couldn’t hear any voices, so I shuffled into the bathroom that I share with my brother. He’s a late sleeper—especially in the summer, when he stays up playing video games after everyone else goes to bed—so, unlike during the school year, I almost never have to wait for the bathroom in the morning. Some days I don’t even see him until dinner.

Once I was finished in the bathroom, I went downstairs just as Mom was ending the call. She was still in her fuzzy slippers and penguin pajamas, but I could tell she was already in funeral-planning mode.

“Who died?” I asked as I tugged the fridge door open.

Mom sighed. “An older lady who lived at a long-term care home. You wouldn’t know her.”

I took out the carton of orange juice and put it on the counter before grabbing a glass. “How old was she?” I always hope for a really high number.

“Ninety-four,” Mom said. She came over and gave me a side hug and a kiss on the top of my head. “She lived a good, long life. Had a big family with lots of kids, grandkids and great-grandkids.”