Page 38 of Summer Reading

She glanced around the room to make certain we couldn’t be overheard.

“But what if they find something?” she asked.

“All the more reason to go sooner rather than later,” I said.

“But it’s just a little bump,” she said. She put her hand on her neck. “It’s probably nothing.”

“Probably,” I agreed. “But wouldn’t it be great to find out and not have to worry anymore.”

“I suppose,” she said.

“Make an appointment and I’ll go with you,” I said.

“I already have one,” she said. “It’s for tomorrow at ten.”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll meet you there.”

“You don’t have to—” she said, but I interrupted.

“You haven’t told your mom, have you?” I asked.

“No, I don’t want to worry her,” she said.

“Then I’ll be there,” I said. “Every patient needs an advocate. I’ll be your advocate.”

Her shoulders slumped, and she looked like she was about to cry. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for,” I said.

We spent the next half hour plotting the teen program for cooking, which we called Teen Chef, sort of like Top Chef but with Teen. Clever, I know. We decidedto have it in the middle of the summer reading program as a push to keep the teens engaged through the end. The menu was still under consideration. I knew I could teach the kids some fast-food techniques, but I also wanted them to learn something that raised their game as a chef.

In spite of myself, I kept one eye on the movement of the library around us, looking for Ben. When he’d said that we’d talk, I didn’t know if it was this morning or in the afternoon, if I was supposed to find him or he would find me or what. This was poor planning, which went against my entire way of being. I was feeling antsy and decided it was best that I go. I could always talk to Ben later, if he wanted. Maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe the kiss had meant nothing to him. Maybe he’d already forgotten it. Yup, I was panicking.

“All right, I’m going to go, but I’ll meet you tomorrow at the doctor’s at ten o’clock sharp, yes?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. She grabbed my hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “And thank you, Sam. I really appreciate it.”

“Appreciate what?” a deep male voice asked from behind me. I felt it rumble inside me from my scalp down my spine all the way to my feet. I closed my eyes. Ben.

Em looked nervous as if she’d been caught planning a bank heist. She licked her lips and said, “Her h-help with th-the teen programming.”

Never mind caught planning a heist. Em sounded as if she’d been caught in the bank vault with the money in her hands. I jumped in.

“It’s going to be an amazing evening of walking tacos, cake in a mug, you name it.”

“You had me at tacos.”

Ben slid into the seat beside me, setting a stack of books on the table. I glanced at the titles. One was in a horrible pixel font that made everything look squared off and, to me, completely illegible. The rest were easier to decode but still too much work for me.

“Are you a fan of hers?” he asked me as he held up one of the books.

“I haven’t read her,” I said. I tried to sound uninterested.

He looked shocked. “Really? But Lauren Beukes is a horror author. Even your icon Stephen King raved about her bookThe Shining Girls.”

“Meh.” I shrugged.

Em frowned as she glanced between us. I knew she could tell I was in over my head and she was trying to figure out how to help me.

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