Almost Perfect - Brian Katcher [57]
“Nah.”
“I thought a guy like you might have an athletic scholarship.” For a moment, Sage’s eyes scoped out my body.
“No, just a poor-boy scholarship.” The government was really coming through for me. If I could maintain a B average, school was almost paid for. “You?”
“Wealthy parents.” We didn’t look at each other for a second. We were both just a little ashamed of our families’ financial statuses.
“Logan, about the other day …” She smiled awkwardly, then closed her eyes with the air of someone about to give a rehearsed apology.
“It’s okay, Sage.”
“No, it’s not. You were trying to make me feel better. I need to remind myself how special that is.”
I looked down at the blacktop, a little embarrassed. I didn’t realize a third person had joined us until it was too late to escape.
She was one of those middle-aged women who could probably pass for the older sister of a student. She had a round face dotted with brown freckles, a mouth permanently twisted into a smirk, and kinky rust-colored hair interlaced with strands of gray. Her resemblance to Tammi was striking.
Sage’s mom folded her arms and looked down at me, even though I was much taller. Thankfully, she didn’t wear the expression of rage that her husband had worn. Just the typical distrustful glare of the mother of a teen girl.
“Mom, this is my friend Logan.”
“Hi, I’m Logan!” I shouted, desperately trying not to make an awful impression.
“Nice to meet you.”
We stood there not saying anything. I was sweating through my already wet clothes. Sage broke the silence.
“Logan’s a runner. You should have seen him out there.”
“I’m a runner,” I repeated.
“He’s going to Mizzou next year.”
“I’ll be going to Mizzou.” Awk! Polly want a cracker!
I slammed my foot down on the clutch and violently shifted my brain out of neutral.
Mrs. Hendricks was looking at me like I was special, but not in the way Sage thought. “Mizzou,” she said, frowning. “Just like Sage.”
“It’s a great campus. My sister goes there, says she has the time of her life.”
Her frown deepened, and I mentally kicked myself. She probably took that to mean there was a lot of drunken sex going on at the university.
Sage cut in. “I wouldn’t know about the campus. I’m not allowed to visit,” she said huffily.
Her mom turned toward her. “Sage, we’ve been over this. You’re …” She paused for a second. “Too young to visit the college on your own.”
Sage was eighteen. I didn’t think her age had anything to do with it.
“C’mon, Mom,” Sage whined. “I could go up there on a Saturday morning—”
Her mother held up a palm. “We’ll discuss this at home.” Her tone telegraphed the fact that there would be no discussion. Mrs. Hendricks nodded politely at me and took Sage’s arm, leading her toward the family car.
So Sage couldn’t even spend the day at Mizzou by herself. I wished there was something I could do for her. Help her get out of her parents’ clutches for the weekend. It would be almost impossible to sneak her away for that long. As always, when faced with a situation that required underhanded, smarmy, double-dealing trickery, I asked myself the same question: What would Laura do?
Laura …
The perfect solution hit me.
“Hold on!” Sage and her mother turned back to me. I grinned, more confidently than I felt. “There’s a program on campus, a freshman orientation, where Sage could spend the night with an upperclassman chaperone.”
Sage looked wary; her mom, interested. I continued, the lies rushing easily through my teeth. “I’m surprised they haven’t contacted you. Sage would stay with a Mizzou senior, have dinner in the dining hall, sleep in a dorm. She could tour the campus, meet some professors. Religious services Sunday morning, if she’s interested.” I was laying it on with a trowel.
Mrs. Hendricks rubbed her chin thoughtfully. Sage took a cautious step back until she was out of her mom’s line of sight, then made violent slashing motions at her neck. I ignored her.
“And you say this is a university-sponsored