The Summer I Saved the World ... in 65 Days (19 page)

He unfolds a towel, puts it down, and starts moving it around with his foot. “You're going to need something more than towels. I'll get a mop, and the squeegee from my garage.”

I nearly slip on a wet towel. “Good thinking.”

Eli leaves as Mr. D. walks in with a metal box of tools. He goes to the sink, takes out what might be a wrench, and then lies on his back, half in the cabinet. In a few minutes, the water stops. He pokes his head out. His shirt is soaked.

“Oh, God, I'm really sorry,” I say.

He stands. “It's all right. I'll stop home and change.”

“Were you going to work?”

“I was.”

“Is the pipe fixed?”

“For now. I'm not a plumber. I did what I could.”

“Wh-what do you do?” I ask. “I mean, your job?”

“I'm a security guard.”

I nod. “Oh.” Makes perfect sense. I gesture to the room. “Really, I didn't—”

“I figured.”

Eli walks back in with the mop and squeegee as Mr. D. packs up his tools and glances at his watch. “I haven't been late to work in five years. The last time was when some neighborhood kids ran through my flower bed.”

I bite my lip, but he picks up his toolbox and smiles at me. “It's good to be late once in a while. Life doesn't get boring that way.”

He squishes across the towels, nods at me, and goes out the door. I think Mr. D. and I are okay.

“That was weird.” Eli looks around the kitchen. “Should I even ask?”

“Not unless you want to hear a ghost story.”

“Huh?”

“It's complicated,” I say, and sigh.

Eli shoves aside some of the wet towels and starts using the squeegee to push water in the direction of the glass door.

It occurs to me that number fifty-three is different. And remarkable. It was a good thing with two other people.

As I kneel and try to sop up the water, I can't help it, I look at Eli's back. His shoulders, his arms. These
curly parts of his hair over his ears.
Stop! Stop looking at something you can't have
.

I pick up a towel and go outside to wring it out on the patio. When I come back in, Eli grabs the mop and shoots water at me.

“Hey!”

He does it again.

I throw the towel at him.

Mop, squeegee, towels, water. We're soaked, and I'm not sure the floor is any drier.

He comes close. Touches my chin. We're inches apart.

“What about Jorie?” I whisper.

He shakes his head. He's about to kiss me again.

And my parents choose this moment to arrive on the scene.

Dad's voice calls from the doorway. “Nina? What's going on in here?”

T
his is not good.

“Nina?” Mom says slowly, her brows creased. “Why are you in here?”

Dad eyes the towels, the water, the open cabinet. “What happened? Did you do this?”

“No. I was cleaning it up.”

He walks across the towels on the floor and peers under the sink. Eli and I take a step away from each other.

“Dad—”

“Mr. Ross,” Eli says. “Nina came to get me, and—”

“What a mess,” Mom is saying, looking around. “I can't believe this. We're going to have to contact the realtor. I'm not paying for this.”

My head starts hurting. “Mom! Why would you have to pay? I didn't do it!”

Dad picks up one of the bottles, examines it. I see his face. He knows. “This isn't your fault,” he says, “is it?”

I remember Mom saying to Matt, “You made a bad choice. Don't screw up again.”

“It wasn't Matt!” I shout. “It was a bunch of teenagers! I don't know who they are! They were in here.”

“You saw them?” Mom asks.

“Y-yes!”

Mom and Dad look at each other. Dad's shoulders sink a little. He shakes his head.

“I swear!”

My fingers are crossed behind my back. I turn around and look at Eli. Is this a good thing? I'm lying. My head is pounding so much, it's hard to think straight.

Dad takes hold of my arm. “You're coming home, right now. Mom and I will deal with this water situation later. Nina, this is breaking and entering. Vandalism. You need to tell us everything. Do you understand?”

“I didn't break in! The door was open!”

I can't even look at Eli. Like I'm five, Dad pulls me out of the Dixon house and keeps a tight grip on my arm.

A few minutes later, we sit in chairs at the kitchen table.

Mom has been unusually quiet, but then she says, “Just tell us, Nina. It was Matt, wasn't it?”

“The root beer,” Dad says. “He drinks it all the time.”

“No,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “That's a coincidence. I heard some noises, went over there, and a bunch of kids ran out of the house. The pipe was leaking, and the floor was flooded when I got there.”

Mom and Dad aren't convinced.

Mom says, “Why was Eli there?”

“He was helping me clean up.”

“Why didn't you come get us?”

“You? Aren't you
preoccupied
? The
case
? You'd have said, ‘In a sec, honey,' and then never come. Every night, you sit here and work. That's all you care about anymore.”

Mom looks shocked.

“You have absolutely no idea the pressure we are under,” Dad says.

“You are the one who has no idea!” I cry. “About anything.”

“Nina, that's not true.” Dad's voice cracks.

“Let's stick to this situation.” Mom folds her hands. “You're absolutely positive you don't know the kids?”

I stand. All I can think about is the way I felt when Eli was close to me. Wanting to kiss him so much.

Dad rubs his forehead. “If you withhold information, in a way, you're just as guilty. We're trying to keep you out of trouble. It's for your own good.”

My own good. Right.

“Was it Eli?” Mom says. “I wouldn't be surprised. His father is a deadbeat. Everyone knows that. You don't need to be hanging around with him or getting involved in his problems. Pretty soon they become your problems.”

I glare at her. “This isn't
Romeo and Juliet
. Eli's one of the best people I know. He's nothing at all like his dad.”

“Don't be too sure.”

“Grandma was right! You make it so hard!” I scream. “Can't you just, for once, not be so harsh about everything?”

Mom stares at me. “Don't change the subject, Nina. We're not talking about Grandma now. Or … me.”

Dad glances at her, then reaches for my hand. “Nina, honey, if someone saw you there, if you know something—”

I pull away. “I don't expect you to get it, but I was trying to do something good.”

F
ine and Ross send me a text the next morning that their case is down to the wire and they won't be home until very late.
Try to stay away from other people's problems today
, Mom writes. Is she being funny?

I go back to the scene of the crime. The glass door is shut. I peer inside. Eli must have finished cleaning everything up. The towels, mop, and squeegee are gone, and the floor looks dry.

The Millman house is strangely quiet.

As I'm walking home, Jorie calls from her window. “Nina! I need you! Come up here!”

She has two dresses spread out on her bed—red satiny and purple flouncy. “Did you get my text?”

“No.”

She groans.

Maybe these missed texts are a symbol of our friendship—hanging on by a few intermittent words.

She points to the dresses. “Which one?”

“For homecoming?”

“Duh.”

I sit on her chair, the fuzzy one that makes my legs itch. I feel like the fabric is going to swallow me up. “Tell me the truth,” I say. “Right now. Are you going to homecoming with Eli? Did he ask you?”

She picks up a bottle of nail polish and shakes it. “All I want to know is which dress you like better. I bought them both because I wasn't sure. My mom thinks—”

“Jorie.”

“We're going.” She pushes the dresses aside and flops onto her bed. “I'm just waiting for him to say yes. And he will.”

“What do you mean?”

“Here's the thing, Neen. I got tired of waiting for him, so I asked. I mean, it was a done deal anyway, so what's the difference who asked who?”

I stand and scratch my leg. How does she sit on this chair? “There's a big difference. So you put the sign on his garage?”

“Yeah.”

“He didn't ask you?”

“Right. So?”

“You said … All this time, you made it seem like …”

“We're still going. And I'm still trying to get Leo to ask you.”

“And I told you not to do that. I don't want to go with Leo. Or Grady, or any other boy you think I should go with. I've been talking about going with Sariah and some other girls.”

She starts playing with her hair. “Wait, Sariah?”

“She was at your party.”

“Oh. You're friends with her?” Jorie rolls onto her side. “Why would you want to go with just girls?”

“We thought it would be fun.”

She jumps up and squeezes me in a hug. “But I really want you to go with me! It would be way more fun with dates. This is high school! You know, the whole thing. Dresses, killer shoes, corsages, pictures.”

“Why couldn't we still get dresses and take pictures? And wear killer shoes?”

“You could, of course, but it's not really the same.”

I don't answer, and she looks at me. “What's the matter?” she asks. “You look sad.”

“Jorie, you just say things, and you don't even think about how someone might feel. How I feel.”

“I'm sorry.”

I walk to her doorway. “You push too hard sometimes.”

She sits on the fuzzy chair, pulls her knees up. “I go after what I want. Like I told you at my party, you have to make it happen. My dad tells me that all the time. What's wrong with that?”

I shake my head. “I need to go.”

“Wait, you didn't tell me which dress you like better.”

“Wear both. Change halfway through the dance.”

Jorie gasps. “I never thought of that! Should I do that? I could do that!” She frowns. “But how would I get the other dress to the dance? I could ask my mom to bring it.”

I've given her something to think about for the rest of the day. This is too sad to count.

I
am going to finish the sixty-five good things if it kills me.

54. I go around to the back of Mr. D.'s and water the forget-me-nots. Several more green sprouts have appeared. Grandma is popping up everywhere.

55. I put a note in his mailbox that says:
Thanks for your help the other night. I hope you weren't too late for work :) From, Nina Ross
.

56. I send my brother a serious text:
Stop avoiding me. We need to talk
. I hope it goes through.