Page 32 of The Heartbreakers
“Hey,” I replied before flopping back on the bed. For the past hour, I had been moping around my bedroom.
“You sound tired.” Even though I couldn’t see his face, I could picture the frown lines etched into his forehead. My dad had developed the habit of being perpetually worried when Cara first got sick.
“Didn’t sleep well,” I told him.
Last night, when we got back from our trip, our parents told us the good news—Cara’s white blood cell count was doing better, and she was being released from the hospital. After that, I went straight to bed. Even though I was worn out, I had stared at the ceiling until early morning, unable to fall asleep. A certain boy had been on my mind.
“Too excited about Cara coming home?” he asked.
“Yeah, something like that.” I picked a spot on the ceiling and studied it, hoping that my dad wouldn’t hear my lie.
Oliver was the reason I couldn’t sleep, not Cara. He’d given me his number and asked me to call. Was today too soon? Would it make me look desperate? Maybe I should hold off for a few days. But if I waited too long, would it look like I wasn’t interested? Calling or not calling was all I could think about.
Was I a horrible sister because I was focused on Oliver Perry and not Cara? Yes, I was excited that she was coming home, but it didn’t mean her cancer was gone. She was still sick. And if there was one thing that I truly wanted, even more than a chance to spend more time with Oliver Perry, it was for my sister to get better.
“Well, your brother and I helped her into the kitchen. Mom is making breakfast.”
“Mom is cooking?” I sat up on the bed. My mom wasn’t much of a chef. She could make Easy Mac and PB&J, but normally family meals were my dad’s responsibility.
“Attempting to. I should probably go help her before the pancakes turn into a scrambled mess.” Cara could live off pancakes, so it was no surprise that my mom wanted to make them. Syrup was practically a food group in our house.
“Scramcakes,” I said with a smile.
“Yeah, we don’t want that,” he said, laughing.
As my dad turned to leave, Drew stuck his head into the room. “Hey, Stella, Cara keeps asking where we were the last two days. Can we just give our present to her now?” He was bouncing up and down, and I could tell that he couldn’t wait to see her reaction.
“Sure thing,” I said and got off the bed. “Let me just get everything together.”
“Okay. There are some birthday gift bags in the hall closet if you want to wrap everything up.”
After grabbing a gift bag covered in glitter and tucking all the signed merchandise inside, I headed to the kitchen. My mom and dad were by the stove, and the smell of breakfast filled the room.
“Stella!” Cara called and patted the chair next to her. She was at the table with Drew and they’d started playing Rummy 500, our family’s favorite card game. Dad had taught us how to play when we were little, and we’d been perfecting our own personal strategies ever since. Drew was the best out of the three of us, but I hated playing with Cara the most. Over the years, she’d earned the nickname The Scooper, because of her infuriating knack for scooping up the discard pile just when you wanted it the most.
“Hey, you,” I said and smiled back. Cara was always buying wigs, and today she was sporting an edgy pixie cut. “Looking sassy today.”
“You like?” She fluffed up the fake hair. “I think it brings out my rebellious side.”
“Since when do you have a rebellious side?” Drew asked and shot her a skeptical look. It wasn’t that Cara was a goody two-shoes, but with her illness, she didn’t have the opportunity that normal teenagers did to break the rules.
“Well, for starters, I’ve already looked at your hand twice. It would be really nice if you laid down the queen of hearts,” she answered innocently.
I burst out laughing and sat down.
My mom turned when she heard me. She had flour in her hair and on her face. “Morning, honey,” she said with a smile. “Want a pancake?”
“I don’t know,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Did you make them?”
“No,” my mom grumbled and waved the spatula at me. “Your dad took over. He was mumbling something about scramcakes.”
“All right, I’ll take one.”
“Thanks for the love and support,” my mom said. Nevertheless, she took a plate down from the cabinets and held it out for my dad to scoop one perfectly golden cake onto. The syrup and orange juice were already on the table, so she only grabbed a fork before setting the breakfast in front of me.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said happily and dug in.
“Who’s that for?” Cara asked when she finally spotted the gift bag.
