Miracle on 49th Street Read Free Page B

girly girl of the universe.
    â€œListen,” he said. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I am sorry about your mom, because she must have told you I cared about her a lot once. And I’m sure that if you don’t know who—If you don’t have a dad, it must be even harder on you. But that doesn’t mean you can just show up out of the blue and lay something like this on me.”
    He looked down.
    The watch again.
    Like they were nearing the end of the game.
    Even if this was no game, at least not to her.
    She said, “Why would I lie?”
    â€œOnly you can answer that one, kid.” He tilted his head to the side, like he was curious about something. “Tell me again how old you are.”
    â€œI never told you how old I was. But I’m twelve.”
    Molly actually felt like she could see him doing the math, like his face was a blackboard and he was adding. Or subtracting.
    â€œJunior year abroad,” he said. “She had this figured pretty good.”
    â€œHad what figured pretty good?”
    â€œThe timing,” Josh Cameron said. “To make her story plausible.”
    â€œHer story ?” Molly could feel herself clenching her fists. “You think my mom made up this story and then told me to come tell it to you after she died?”
    â€œIt’s a good try, is all I’m saying.”
    Molly took another deep breath, through her nose, then another, slowly, filling her lungs up, emptying them, one of the exercises the grief counselor had told her about.
    She pictured herself throwing the letter at him, telling him if he wanted to really know her mom’s story , well, here it was.
    Only she didn’t.
    â€œIt was junior year abroad,” Molly said.
    â€œWhen she left,” he said. “Saying she didn’t know when she’d be back.”
    Molly didn’t say a word, still just trying to breathe in and out.
    â€œLike I said,” Josh said. “I’m sorry about all of this.”
    â€œYou’ve made that pretty clear.”
    â€œBut there is no way in this world that Jen…that your mom…could’ve gone off to London and had a baby—what you’re trying to tell me now is my baby—and never told me about it over all these years.”
    Off to her left, Molly’s eyes tracked on all the cars pulling away from the Sports Authority Training Center, the kids probably ripping through the goody bags in the backseats, the moms driving them home with their stupid autographs and their Josh Cameron stuff.
    Molly found herself thinking of Sam. Wishing she could text message him right this minute. Everybody else thought he was just some funny-looking nerd, but from the first day, Molly had been able to see inside him. She picked up right away that he was smarter than everybody else, that he was funnier, that he always knew the exact right thing to say.
    Never once when they’d rehearsed her big scene had it played out like this.
    Josh Cameron acting as if she’d just shown up here to throw up some kind of pathetic— truly pathetic—desperation shot at the buzzer.
    â€œI don’t even know where you live,” he said. “Or who you live with. Do they know you came here today?”
    Molly said, “I live with Mr. and Mrs. Evans. They have a daughter the same age as me. Mrs. Evans was my mom’s best friend at UConn.”
    â€œYou’re living with Barbara?”
    â€œOn Joy Street. Near Beacon.”
    â€œDoes Barbara think you’re—Did your mom tell her the same story you’re telling me?”
    Her story. They were back to that.
    The made-up kind of story is what he really meant.
    â€œNo,” Molly said.
    â€œIt was between you and your mom.”
    â€œPretty much. She said she’d made a promise to herself that she wasn’t ever going to tell anybody.”
    â€œUntil she was dying.”
    Molly said, “She wasn’t even going to tell