Every Time You Go Away by Abigail Johnson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Abigail Johnson
- Language: English
- Genre: Teen & Young Adult Fiction on Drugs & Alcohol Abuse
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2.7 MB
- Price: Free
BEFORE
REBECCA
There is nowhere else to start but with Ethan.
Ethan with his golden-brown eyes and teasing grin. He was my first
friend, my first kiss, and the one person I trusted with all my secrets even as
he held back so many of his.
We were kids that first day I saw him. Or I was. I’m not sure Ethan was
ever a kid.
My dad scratches at the thinning part of his blond hair and bends over the
griddle. “An eggplant?”
“Dad!”
“What? It looks like an eggplant.” He reaches to rotate the griddle, burns
himself, then yanks his hand back with a hiss. “All right, then what is it
supposed to be?”
Trying not to laugh, I hand him the lobster-shaped oven mitt I got him for
Christmas. “It’s obviously an ice cream cone.” And I obviously need to
work on my pancake shapes if he guessed so wrong. Normally he always
knows what I’m trying to make with mine just like I always know he’s
going to make his shaped like Mickey heads.
Dad—with his oven mitt on this time—turns the griddle this way, then
that before shaking his head. “Sorry, sweetie. I just don’t see it. Maybe if
we—” He reaches past my perch on the counter to the cabinet by my head
and pulls out a tiny jar of sprinkles which he shakes over half the pancake.
“Yep, there it is. Ice cream cone.”
I grin. “It would look extra ice cream coney with some whipped cream.”
Dad snaps his fingers at me before turning to the fridge then speeds up
after glancing at his watch. “And I am going to be late.”
My grin slips. Summer is usually my favorite time of year because Dad is
home with me all day, but since he’s teaching summer school this year,
morning pancakes together are all we have. Once he slips out the door with
a peck on my forehead, I get to be bored—and quiet so my mom can work
from the dining room table—for hours until he comes home. Sometimes I
go next door to visit Mr. and Mrs. Kelly, but my mom doesn’t like me going
over there too often since she says retired people like to be by themselves
and not entertain energetic nine-year-olds every day. When she repeated
that to me just last week, I asked her if she was retired and my dad snorted
coffee all over his pancakes.
Dad’s been gone for hours now and our tiny house feels extra tiny and
extra dull. My mom has already told me to keep it down three times and
since she only allows me two hours of screen time a day, I end up standing
on the pillowed window seat in our front room, playing a game I just now
invented called Ceiling Slap. It’s very complicated and involves leaping to
try and brush the ceiling with my fingertips and stealing glances at the
hallway to the dining room between each attempt in case my mom comes
out and catches me.
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