“No, I’m not.”
He went to the corner of my room, where his clothes were still draped over my chair. He picked up the shorts, snapped my leg with them, then headed for the door.
“What about the shirt?” I asked.
He waved his hand through the air. “It’s dirty.”
“But you need a shirt.” I went to my closet and flipped through my stacks until I found the biggest one I owned, then tossed it to him.
He held it up. “You want me to wear a hot-pink breast cancer run shirt?”
“Yes.”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
“Oh, and before you shower. I got something.” I snatched the crickets off the end of my bed and held them up for Cooper to see while I pointed at the list. “Try something new.”
“What is it?”
“Dried crickets.”
“Crickets? Are you being serious?”
I tore open the bag and poured them into my hand. There were six of them. Cooper stepped closer, took one off my extended palm, and popped it into his mouth.
“Mmm. Salty.” Then he walked to the door.
I let out a huff of air. I had hoped he’d put up more of a fight than that. I’d hoped that maybe I’d found something he was afraid of. When he got to the door, he turned. “Are you going to try one?”
Without thinking too hard, I stuck one in my mouth and chewed it up quickly. He was right—it was salty and crunchy and tasted a bit like dry grass. “That wasn’t too bad.”
“Not at all. But that doesn’t count for me.”
“What? Why?”
“I’ve eaten dried crickets before.”
I threw the rest of them at him, but they landed on my floor five feet away. “You brat. Well, it counted for me.”
“Okay, but we have to try something new together too. Something we both haven’t done. Something epic. Like that sunrise.”
I smiled, hearing he thought our outing was epic. “Okay.”
He backed out of my room, and I watched him disappear behind the bathroom door across the hall.
FIFTEEN
“You really shouldn’t shower here!” I called out to him. Like I needed the person I was trying not to be in love with waltzing around my bathroom . . . showering.
I thought he hadn’t heard me, but the door popped back open and he leaned out. “What?”
Gah. I was being ridiculous. He’d showered here before. “Nothing. Go shower.”
I picked up the dried crickets from the carpet and deposited them in my trash. Then I added another checkmark to my list. I was still on track. Three paintings almost done and nearly half my list. I was convinced I could make the deadline now, but not completely convinced Mr. Wallace would see any growth. Different didn’t necessarily mean better.
When I walked by the bathroom, Cooper was humming some tune I didn’t recognize. I joined my grandpa and mom in the living room.
“Where’s Cooper? Trailing more coral paint through the house?” Grandpa asked.
“Coral, right? I’m glad we agree on the color.” I gestured down the hall with my head and sat down. “He’s washing the coral paint down the drain.”
My mom, who had been sitting on the couch reading her True Crime book, raised her eyebrows. “How’s the list coming?”
“Pretty good. I still have a few to do. But I am halfway in love, according to Grandpa.”
“Oh yes, I heard about Elliot,” she said.
“You two are like gossipy tweens. No secrets can be shared here.”
“I am a vault,” my mom said in faux offense.
“And I am the safe inside the vault,” my grandpa said.
I rolled my eyes.
“We don’t tell anyone else,” Mom said.
I almost said, of course you don’t, you don’t see anyone else. But there was some sarcasm even I resisted.
“Well, except Dad.”
“You told Dad?”
“Of course, honey, he likes to hear these things. He said you haven’t emailed him lately.”
I cringed. He’d sent me a response to my last email where he’d listed off several alternative name choices I could pick from and asked what other experiences I’d done off my list that he could tell me he disapproved of. I’d read the email on my phone, meaning to respond once I was in front of my laptop, but I never had. “I know. I forgot. At this point, I’m just waiting for his weekly phone call. That’s easier.”
My mom sighed. “Easier does not promote communication.”
“I’m going to put that on a T-shirt.”
“Seriously, Abby.”
“I know, Mom. I’ll email him.” I headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to get some ice cream. Cricket aftertaste isn’t great.”
By the time I had scooped myself a bowl of mint chip ice cream and gone back to the living room, Cooper was sitting on the couch, hair still dripping and hot-pink shirt too small on him. It stretched tight on his biceps and across his chest. I quickly looked away before my grandpa saw me staring.
“Did you eat a cricket too?” Mom asked him.
“Yes. It was flavored, I think.” He tugged at the neck of the shirt.
“Salt and pepper,” I said.
“Abby is working on number five on the list,” Grandpa said.
“You know the numbers?” I asked.
“No, it was just a stab in the dark. But I mean the falling in love one.”
I had just taken a big bite of ice cream and I swallowed it too quickly, causing a brain freeze. I hopped around until the pain subsided, then pointed to my grandpa first and then my mom. “Cooper, meet the vault and the safe inside the vault.”
“I didn’t say anything,” my mom said.
“Falling in love?” Cooper asked with a teasing smile. “Did you meet someone?”
“Nope. We just saw Elliot at the store. Grandpa is overreaching.”
“Elliot again?” Cooper asked. “That’s twice in two weeks. Maybe it’s fate.” He emphasized the word I liked to use. “You two should come on a double date with me and Ris.”
Grandpa put up his finger. “Elliot said he was going to a Fourth of July party.”
“Perfect!” Cooper said. “We can all hang out together there. I’m going to call him.”
“You don’t have his number.”
“I do. I got it on that napkin, remember?”
“Hey, Grandpa? Remember that deep-tissue massage technique you taught me?”
“Yes.”
“Cooper has a really bad knot in his neck. Can you work it out for him?”
Grandpa pushed the ottoman that sat in front of him out with his foot. “Have a seat, my boy. Let’s nip that knot in the bud.”
“I’m going to bed.” It probably wasn’t even nine o’clock, but I was annoyed at everyone in the room. I finished off my ice cream and put the bowl in the sink. “Let’s all try this again tomorrow.”
Once in my room, I opened my laptop and typed a quick email to my dad.
From the daughter who is bad at emails, to the father who is the master of them,
Sorry! I’ve been busy growing my heart. It takes work. Let’s see, what have I done? I tried out for a play. Not sure what it taught me. Maybe that making a fool of myself is something I excel in. I’m reading two classics simultaneously. They are both equally old and mind stretching. I thought I knew English, but apparently I don’t. I watched a sunrise. How come you and Mom have never forced me to do that before? Does this make you horrible parents? It’s up for debate. I helped at a soup kitchen. The kids there are so little. It was heartbreaking, but also taught me that I have so much to be thankful for. I also heard that Mom told you about Elliot. That is nothing, so no need for twenty questions about him. I don’t think I could even answer twenty questions about him. Maybe three, and they’d all have to be about how he looks. Speaking of Mom, she went on a walk with us the other day.