Page 40 of The Design of Goodbye
“I don’t have—” He shook his head. “No.”
I thought back to when we’d been in Mrs. Webb’s office. I remembered her comment—one I hadn’t given any thought to until now.
“What about Mrs. Webb?” I suggested. “She wants to talk.”
He laughed bitterly. “I’m not talking to our school counselor.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing.” Then he added, not sounding all that confident, “I can handle it.”
After what I’d witnessed, I wasn’t sure he could. But I didn’t know him, so who was I to assume what he could and couldn’t handle?
“Do you know why you have them?”
His face fell. He sucked in a deep, controlled breath, but it came out as a shaky burst of air. “I have an idea.”
“Maybe if—”
“Stop.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Can you please...stop talking?” He gripped his thighs and bowed his head. Any control he’d had was gone, and his words were frantic and choppy as he said, “This conversation is making me feel like I’m going to get another one.”
Thimble darted into the room and jumped on Liam’s lap. I froze. Why did Thimble always choose the worst time to greet someone? What if Liam was allergic? What if he hated cats? What if Thimble’s presence caused Liam to have another panic attack in the dining room? What if—
Liam wrapped his arm around Thimble. I let out a soft sigh of relief. As I waited for Liam to speak, I stared at the back of his hand. At the black-and-white paint splattered on it. He must paint often because the paint was always there. I clenched my hands so I didn’t grab his because, for some reason, I had the urge to run my fingertips over his wrist.
Why did I have the strong desire to comfort him again? And why was I jealous of my cat?
Liam looked at me, but then his gaze lowered to Thimble when he caught me staring. While our eye contact had been brief, it was all I’d needed to know. Like me, sadness followed this boy around like an old friend. But what had he been through to get such an unwelcome companion?
“What’s her name?” he asked.
“He’s a boy. His name’s Thimble.”
“He’s cute.” Thimble rubbed his face on Liam’s hand. Liam understood the cue and started providing pets. “But why is he so wet?”
My cheeks flamed. “He’s kind of obsessed with water. It’s his thing. And a huge problem. We have special locks on all the bathrooms—remind me to show you how to use them.” I bit my lip to stop my rambling. “I can get you a towel. Or make him get off you.”
“I’m okay. My pants will dry.” He scratched behind Thimble’s ear, and my cat purred. Actuallypurred. Traitor. It normally took me hours of pets before he gave me that kind of satisfaction. “I don’t mind him here.”
“Are you hungry?” I asked. The effect the panic attack had on him was obvious, and I was desperate to do something to make him feel better. Food always made boys feel better, didn’t it? “I could make us something. And some coffee, of course.”
“I could definitely eat something.”
I walked into my kitchen, and he turned around in his seat, Thimble still in his lap, to watch me search through the fridge and pantry.
“How about breakfast for lunch?”
“Anything you want is fine,” he said.
“Omelets?” My eyes landed on the bucket of leftover apples we still had. “Or I could make apple pancakes?”
“Apple pancakes?”
“You’ve never had one?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re missing out,” I said. “Anyway, pick one.”
