Page 13 of Through My Window
I clear my throat. “You didn’t let me finish. I stayed outside the bakery eating the donut.”
“Do you expect me to believe that?”
I put my hands on my hips. “That’s what happened, Mom. You know me, what else could I be doing?”
Letting a boy kiss my neck in the cemetery.
My mom narrows her eyes. “You better not be lying to me, Raquel.”
“I would never dare, my sweet mother.” I give her a hug and kiss the side of her face.
“Your dinner is in the microwave.”
“You are the best.”
“And go upstairs and give that dog of yours some love, he’s done nothing but crawl around the house depressed.”
“Aww! He misses me!”
“Or he’s hungry.”
Both are very possible.
After devouring my food, I go up to my room, and Rocky comes running out to greet me. He almost knocks me down. He’s getting bigger every day.
“Hello, beautiful, cutie, fluffy doggy.” I rub his head gently. “Who’s the cutest doggy in the world?” Rocky licks my hand. “That’s right, you are.”
My phone chirps in my jacket pocket and, closing my bedroom door with my foot, I check the message. It’s from Joshua, my other best friend. I haven’t seen him in days because I’ve been spending so much time with Dani.
Joshua BFF: Are you awake?
Me: Yes, what’s up?
A second later, my phone lights up with a call from him.
“Hi, Rochi,” he says as soon as I answer. He has always affectionately called me Rochi.
“Hi, Yoshi.” And I, of course, call him after the dinosaur fromMario Kart. He reminds me of Joshua, and he’s cute. They’re not the most mature nicknames in the world, but in my defense, we picked them when we were children.
“First of all, the crazy girl is not with you, right?”
“No, Dani must be at home.”
“Finally. You’ve completely abandoned me for her. I’m already forgetting your face.”
“It’s been four days, Yoshi.”
“That’s a long time. Anyway, how about tomorrow we binge-watchThe Walking Dead?”
“Only if you swear to me that you haven’t seen the new episodes without me.”
“You have my word.”
I walk around my room distractedly. “It’s a deal then.”
“Your place or mine?”
I look at the calendar on the wall. “Mine. Mom has a double shift tomorrow, and my TV is bigger.”
