Remember Me Read Free

mess from the cocktail party. Amanda wants to ride to Beth's party with me."

    "Why's she going? Is she a friend of Beth's?"

    "Not really. I don't know why she wants to go." I had to wonder if Amanda had had time to buy a present, if she even had the money to buy one. She and her mom didn't exactly enjoy material prosperity.

    "Is she still in the bathroom?" he asked.

    "I don't know. You're not going to talk to her, are you?"

    "Why not?"

    "You're not dressed."

    He smiled. "I'll put my pants on first." He started to open the door. "I think she's gone back downstairs."

    "Wait. Jimmy?" I grabbed his arm. He stopped and looked at me. "When was the last time you called her?"

    "Monday." He added, "Four days ago."

    "That was the last time you talked to her. You called her yesterday. You called her the day before that, too. Maybe you should give it a rest."

    "Why? I just want to say hi, that's all. I'm not being fanatical or anything."

    "Of course you're not," I lied. "But sometimes it's better, you know, to play a little hard to get. It makes you more desirable."

    He waved his hand. "I'm not into all those games." He tried to step by. I stopped him again.

    "I told her you were asleep," I said.

    "She asked about me?"

    "Yeah, sure." I wasn't even sure why I was so uptight about his not talking to her. I guess I couldn't stand to see Jimmy placed in a potentially humiliating situation. But perhaps I was just jealous. ' 'We have to leave for the party in a couple of minutes," I added.

    He began to reconsider. "Well, I guess I shouldn't bother her." He shook his head. "I wish her mom would tell her when I've called."

    "Jimmy—"

    "No," he said quickly. "Amanda really doesn't get the messages. She told me so herself."

    I couldn't imagine that being true, but I kept my mouth shut. "I'll drop sly hints to Amanda tonight that she should call you tomorrow."

    He nodded at the brush in my hand. "Isn't that mine?"

    "Yeah, mine broke."

    "You have a dozen brushes."

    "They're all broken." I gestured to our mom's makeup table behind us. She never went out of the house without fixing herself up for an hour. Some might have called her a snob. I had called her that myself a few times, but never when my father was around. We didn't have a lot in common.

    "And mom wouldn't let me use one of hers."

    "What did Amanda ask about me?"

    "If you were getting enough rest." I patted him on the shoulder. "Go to bed."

    I tucked Jimmy back in bed so that he could be fresh when his alarm went off at three in the morning and finished getting ready. When I went back downstairs, I found Amanda and her mom in the kitchen discussing whether a half-eaten chocolate cake should be divided into pieces before squeezing it into the jammed refrigerator.

    "Why don't we just throw it in the garbage?" I suggested.

    Mrs. Parish looked unhappy about the idea, which was interesting only because she usually looked so happy. Maybe I should clarify that. She wasn't one of those annoying people who go around with perpetual smiles on their faces.

    Her joy was quiet, an internal matter. But if I may be so bold, it often seemed that it shone a bit brighter whenever the two of us were alone together. I could talk to her for hours, about everything—even boys. And she'd just listen, without giving me advice, and she always made me feel better.

    Jo, "Little Jo," had given her a nickname, too—"Mother Mary." I called Mrs.

    Parish that all the time. She was a devout Catholic. She went to mass several times a week and never retired for the night without saying her rosary. That was the one area where we didn't connect. I was never religious. Oh, I always liked Jesus, and I even went to church now and then. But I used to have more important things to think about than God. Like whether I should try to have sex with my boyfriend before I graduated from high school or whether I should wait until the Fourth of July and the fireworks. I wanted it to be a special moment. I