Page 23 of Leo
“Maybe Bethany’s brother can show us,” Edward said after his first bite.“I don’t think chocolate is supposed to taste like dirt.”
“No… But it might after I forget to put in sugar,” I muttered, looking at the recipe again.“And vanilla.”
Edward made a face.“You put in vanilla.Just too much.”
“Did not,” I exclaimed with mock-affront.“I put in the perfect amount!”
“Yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes, barely hiding a smirk.“If you were makingtencakes!”
“Ten cakes!I bet Ambrose couldn’t even make that many!”
“Dad, he’s a baker!He makes that many all the time!”
“Well, I bet none of them taste like the Morris Boys’ Ten Vanilla Chocolate Cake,” I sniffed.
“I hope not…”
He cackled as I shouted in pretend offense, taking off like a shot when I chased him.We ran around the house, Edward deciding to show me how he learned parkour on YouTube (and reminding me why I asked Naomi not to let him watch YouTube with Leslie, just her or Mike).
A bit of ice on his banged-up knee, and it was time for dinner.
That’s when everything went to hell.
The later it got, the more closed off Edward became.By bedtime, he was in full on grouch mode and trying every trick in the book to get out of going to school the next day.
“Bud, I know you’re not sick.Come on.Talk to me.”
“I amtoo!I have a fever!”
I took the thermometer from his hand and glanced at the reading.“No one has a fever of one hundred and ten and looks as good as you do.”I sighed.“Did you hold this against the lamp?”
“No.”
I waited.
“I put it in your cup of tea.”
I had to give him points for ingenuity on that one.All my attempts at faking a fever had either ended up in a destroyed microwave (who knew glass and mercury aren’t a good combination with those things?Okay, I did, but I’d had high hopes) or my mother laughing and shooing me off to school anyway.
Edward slept fitfully, and in the morning dragged his way through getting ready until I finally picked him up and put his shoes on him myself, grabbed my satchel and travel mug of coffee awkwardly with my other hand, and lugged him to the car a few minutes later than the absolute latest we could leave and still get him to school on time.
“Dad,” he muttered as I secured him in his car seat.
“Edward, buddy, I love you more than anything in the vast, ever expanding, and probably infinite universe but you’re not sick, okay?We have a plan, remember?”
He nodded.“But, Dad—”
“What’s the plan, bud?”I asked before moving to my side of the car and getting in.
“If Ms.Webb is giving me problems, tell the principal.And if the principal doesn’t listen to me, tell you immediately.But Dad—”
I nodded, turning on the car and starting to reverse down the drive.“I know it’s not the best plan, but until I can get the district to set up a meeting with the disability advocate and the IEP team—”
“Dad!”
Something bounced against my window and hit the driveway, startling the squirrels under our oak tree.“Damn it!”
“You left your coffee on the roof of the car.”
