scared to touch him. But not because I thought I was better than him. He just
made me so nervous.
He put his hand down and nodded once, then said, “I guess I better go.”
I stepped aside so he could walk around me. He pointed past the kitchen,
silently asking if that was the way to the back door. I nodded and walked
behind him as he made his way down the hall. When he reached the back door,
I saw him pause for a second when he saw my bedroom.
I was suddenly embarrassed that he was seeing my bedroom. No one ever
sees my bedroom, so I’ve never felt the need to give it a more mature look. I still
have the same pink bedspread and curtains I’ve had since I was twelve. For the
first time ever I felt like ripping down my poster of Adam Brody.
Atlas didn’t seem to care how my room was decorated. He looked straight at
my window—the one that looks out over the backyard—then he glanced back at
me. Right before he walked out the back door he said, “Thank you for not being
disparaging, Lily.”
And then he was gone.
Of course I’ve heard the term disparaging before, but it was weird hearing
a teenage guy use it. What’s even weirder is how everything about Atlas seems
so contradictory. How does a guy who is obviously humble, well-mannered, and
uses words like disparaging end up homeless? How does any teenager end up
homeless?
I need to find out, Ellen.
I’m going to find out what happened to him. You just wait and see.
—Lily
- • •
I’m about to open another entry when my phone rings. I crawl across
the couch for it and I’m not the least bit surprised to see it’s my
mother again. Now that my father has passed and she’s alone, she’ll
probably call me twice as much as she did before.
“Hello?”
“What do you think about my moving to Boston?” she blurts out.
I grab the throw pillow next to me and shove my face into it,
muffling a scream. “Um. Wow,” I say. “Really?”
She’s quiet, and then, “It was just a thought. We can discuss it
tomorrow. I’m almost to my meeting.”