Page 13 of Presley's Christmas Catch
“The Devils don’t know a lot of things,” Dad says.
“But the fact that he likes TOK seals the deal, am I right?” Mom bounces her eyebrows at me. Dad gives us a look and turns the volume back up on the TV, now that we’ve switched to talking about my crush again.
“Can you blame me?” I ask. He’s fun, sending me quotes from the books and off-the-wall opinions he knows will get a rise out of me. He’s a tease, even though it’s dry. In his texts, I’ve seen bits and pieces of the intensity that people play up, but he’s so much more.
Having a friend like him feels like the first few chapters of The Obsidian Kingdom when I read it the first time: fascinating, intriguing … engrossing.
From the text I got this morning, Brock is probably almost done with book two already—we both had to slow down a little the last few days after spending an entire day reading book one. I’ve been listening to the audiobook because I still can’t find my old copy. It must be at my apartment somewhere, but not knowing sends a little buzz through my stomach when I think about it being missing. Aunt Shannon didn’t buy me that copy, just book one of that old collection, but they’re still all tied together. Reading my original collection has become like a tribute to her.
I push away from the table.
“Okay, I have to go. But have you seen my copy ofShattered Void?” I ask, just in case. “It’s the second TOK book.”
“Yeah,” Mom says. “Your dad’s been reading it. He borrowed it from your house a couple weeks ago. He didn’t think you’d miss that old copy.” She grimaces. “You have a couple other sets, right?”
I don’t care that Dad borrowed a book from me without mentioning it. We’ve always been like that as a family, sharing easily. He probably meant to let me know and forgot.
“Dad is reading TOK?” I give my mom a bewildered look.
“I’m retired!” Dad says from the family room.
I burst into laughter. Dad has been retired from pro football for almost ten years. In the first several years after he retired, he always had something going on to keep him busy—commentating gigs and stuff like that, but in the last couple years he’s stepped back from almost everything to be “totally retired” as he likes to tell me and Mom. Now he’s free to golf. Fly out to Rays games across the country whenever he wants. Spoil grandkids when they finally arrive. (His pointed words, not mine.)
I move from the kitchen to the edge of the family room. “What do you think of the book?” I ask Dad, almost giddy. First, finding out that Brock likes the books, and now maybe my dad likes them too? I mean, he read on to book two. That means something. I form a picture of the two of them discussing the ultimate battle scene from book fifteen, but quickly dismiss it. Managing expectations.
Dad smirks at me. “Meh.” But his eyes dance.
“Dad!” I turn on my heel and wave as I head back the way I came, bending over to kiss Mom on the cheek before I leave, grinning the whole way. “Want to be in my book club with Brock Hunter?” I call from the doorway before I go.
“Meh!” he answers again, a wide smile breaking his face.
September& October
Presley:FINALLY finished Whispers of the Forgotten Empire. I do not remember that one being so long. Seven hundred pages!? What was Thornridge thinking?
Brock:You’re on book 7 already?
Brock:That’s it. I’m quitting football.
Presley:What, like you’re busy? You act like you have to practice or play games or go to a job or something.
Brock:You guys played New York last week. That’s at least eight hours of reading time just on the plane. Cheating.
Presley:You guys were in Florida! Just as long of a flight.
Brock:I was sleeping. I was a little bit tired.
Presley:Sorry I didn’t watch. We were playing the same time. How did it go?
Brock:Same as always.
Presley:
Presley:Greatness isn’t forged in comfort and ease but when you stand on the edge of despair.
Brock:Did you just quote Lyra to me?
Presley:Name that book.
