Eleanor & Grey(10)

He scratched his chin. “So, dinner?”

“I can’t tonight. I’m babysitting Molly.” I’d been babysitting Molly Lane twice a week, Mondays and Fridays, for the past few months after school. She was a spunky five-year-old girl who lived a few blocks away, and she kept me on my toes. “I should actually head over there soon.”

“Oh, it is Monday, isn’t it?” He wiggled his nose. “Well, I guess it’s just me, Frasier, and Mickey D’s for dinner tonight.”

“Does Mom know about the McDonalds?” I asked, knowing about Dad’s latest diet plan.

He pulled out his wallet and held up twenty bucks. “Does she have to know about it?”

“Are you bribing me?”

“I don’t know—is it working?”

I walked over and took the money from his grip. “Yup, it sure is.”

He wrapped his hands around my head and kissed my forehead. “I always knew you were my favorite daughter.”

“I’m your only daughter.”

“That we know of. There were a lot of rock concerts in the early eighties.”

I rolled my eyes, a small chuckle coming from my lips. “You know Mom will smell the French fries on you. She always does.”

“Some things are worth the risk.” He kissed my forehead one last time. “I’ll see you later. Tell Molly and her parents I said hi!”

“Will do.”

“Love you, Snickers.” He’d nicknamed me after his favorite candy, a term of endearment.

“Love you, too, Dad.”

After he left, I began getting ready to head over to Molly’s. I always took some of the old chapter books I’d loved as a kid to read to her before she went to bed. Molly loved books almost as much as I did, and I secretly felt a bit of jealousy that one day she’d get to read the Harry Potter series for the first time ever.

What I wouldn’t have given to once again experience the feeling of reading those books for the very first time.





Raine, Illinois was split into two parts, divided by a bridge—the east side and the west side. I lived on the west side, but Molly was on the east, off Brent Street. Even though I lived only a few blocks away, once you crossed over the small bridge, you could tell the difference in income level. My family was well-off, but we weren’t as well-off as those east of the bridge.

All the houses on Molly’s block were worth insane amounts of money. They were mansions—really big mansions. Raine was a pretty middle-class town, except for when you walked the east side. It was where all the wealthy people who worked in Chicago, but wanted a semi-suburban lifestyle lived. Mom nannied for families on that side of the bridge, and she made a pretty great income. I swore even the air smelled like hundred-dollar bills. If it hadn’t been for Molly, there would have been no reason I’d ever be caught on that side of town.

“You’re Molly Lane’s babysitter!” a voice shouted as my sneaker landed on the first step of Molly’s porch. I quickly turned to see where it was coming from. Across the street, three houses to the left, stood a boy with a stupid great smile. Greyson waved.

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure he was waving at me, and for goodness’ sake, he was.

I brushed my hand across the back of my neck and said, “Oh, yeah.”

Those were the only words I could think to say. When he started down his porch toward me, my heart started doing cartwheels in my chest, and it beat faster and faster as he approached.

He did that slow-motion hand-through-his-hair move again, and my heart somehow both stopped and sped up at the same time.

“You’ve been watching her for a while?” he asked.

“Yeah, a few months.” My hands were clammy. Why are my hands clammy? Can he see the guilt all over me? Can he tell that I’ve been thinking about him? Does he smell my fear?! Oh, gosh, are my elbows sweating? I hadn’t even known elbows could sweat!

“I used to go to church with her when she was younger. She was the best part because everything was so structured, and when it was quiet, she’d just scream, ‘A clue, a clue!’, quoting Blue’s Clues, then she’d run to the front of the church and just dance.”

I snickered. Sounded like the Molly I knew and loved.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, and rocked back and forth in his Nikes. “But that’s not where I know you from. I figured it out the other day.”

“Oh? And where’s that?”

“The Sherman Cancer Clinic.” His smile kind of evaporated while my heart kind of cried. “I’ve seen you there a few times, coming and going.”

Oh.

Well, that was awkward.

I went to the Sherman Cancer Clinic with my parents whenever Mom was having chemotherapy appointments. For the longest time, Mom didn’t want me to go because she thought it would upset me, but honestly, I felt more upset not being there.

I didn’t say a word.

“Are you sick?” he asked.

“No. I’m not.”

He crinkled his nose. “Is someone you know sick?”

“Um, my mom. She has breast cancer,” I breathed out, and the moment the word cancer left my lips, I tried to suck it back in. Every time I said it, my eyes had a way of watering over.