Page 100 of Driftwood Daffodil

My gaze snapped to his. “Why? What did you hear?”

Did he know?

“I know Kato was supposed to call.” He explained while tipping his head. “Why? Did something else happen?”

I huffed out a very unbelievable, “No. ”

“Uh huh.” He crossed his arms and gave me the look he always did when he knew I was lying.

It was seriously annoying how well he could read me. I guess that’s what happened when you shared a crib with someone.

“Nova?”

“Memphis.”

“What happened?”

I dropped my advanced chem book back in my locker and calmly said, “Nothing. Kato called, Maw Maw hit me with her slipper. It was a perfectly normal day.”

Okay maybe my words weren’t as calm as I thought. But, if I didn’t look at him, then he couldn’t read my expression.

“You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?”

Kind of.

“Yes, I do.” I also expected him to know how stubborn I was. One would think after seventeen years of lost arguments hewould’ve stopped trying. Of course he would say he won some, but he didn’t. I just let him think he did.

“Come on, Nova…” Memphis was cut off by a can that whizzed past and crashed into my locker.

I looked at the soda dripping off my books and sighed. That’s about right. Couldn’t help but admire the throwers' aim though. He got the can right in the middle of the locker.

“Are you kidding me?” Memphis snarled out at the crowd filling the hall. “Who did that?”

I snorted, “What are you going to do? Beat them up?”

“Someone needs to do something.”

And he thought that person was him?

“A trash can has better fighting skills than you.” I took off my sweater and used it to sop up some of the mess.

“I took jiu jitsu.” He argued.

“You took two classes when you were seven.” That was hardly what I’d consider a master.

Memphis puffed his chest out, “I can take care of myself.”

Giving up on cleaning up, I slammed my locker shut and shot Memphis a deadpan look. “You can barely take care of yourself.”

“I do just fine, thank you very much.” He said while lifting his chin.

“Really? How many appointments did you miss last month?” Funny how he always remembered mine but somehow forgot his own. Mind you, most of his appointments were made by his father who thought psychiatric help would miraculously flip his sexual proclivities.

“Without me you would be a pregnant teenage dropout.”

“You can’t get pregnant without having sex, genius.” I shot him a small smug grin.

Sometimes logic had its place. Like when I wanted to win an argument.

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