Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [85]
Marissa rolled her eyes and cocked an eyebrow at the same time—a new gesture in her repertoire. How could you not know?
I just didn’t. I shrugged. I wish you’d told me.
I’m sorry. I was jealous, remember? I used to watch Ed in the cafeteria, and for a while I thought he was staring at me every time he looked over at us. But then he joined the chess club, and I knew it was you he liked.
That must have been tough.
Marissa smiled ruefully. Torture. I’m not sure how he could have been any more obvious. You’re deaf, but there’s no excuse for being blind as well.
I nodded, accepting the criticism. But inside I felt shaken up. The old Marissa was kinder, gentler than that. Maybe her makeover wasn’t limited to the outside.
I miss you, she signed, summoning one last bittersweet smile.
I miss you too, I signed back. But I worried that what we really missed were versions of each other that might no longer exist. And as I closed the computer, I wondered what it meant that my thoughts had already turned to making up with Ed, not Marissa.
CHAPTER 47
“Anyone want a latte?” I asked as I left the dinner table. I needed to see Ed, and right away.
Mom looked at me like I’d grown an extra head. “Where are you going to get a latte?”
“Coffee Crew.”
“You’re grounded.”
“It’s just a cup of coffee.”
Dad stood up. “Actually, I’d like one too. But Mom’s right, you’re grounded. So I come as well, and I drive.”
Mom’s eyebrows lifted to her hairline. “Hold on a minute, I . . . Oh, heck, just bring me one too.”
Before she could change her mind, I dashed outside and waited for Dad to join me.
Five minutes later, we pulled up in front of Coffee Crew. “That looks like Ed Chen,” Dad said, looking through the shop windows.
I was about to feign ignorance when something dawned on me. “How do you know Ed?”
“He’s taking the same signing course as me.” Dad narrowed his eyes, deep in thought. “He’s the drummer in your band, right?”
I tried to answer, but I couldn’t get past the fact that Ed was learning to sign . . . for me.
Dad leaned back in his seat, smiling like the pieces of the puzzle had just fallen into place. “All right. I want a double tall two-percent. Same for Mom. I’ve got to pick up some milk from the grocery store. I’ll be back in half an hour, okay?”
I swallowed hard. “Okay. Thanks, Dad.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome. . . . Oh, and Piper,” he added, “don’t forget the coffees. Crucial for our alibi.”
I snorted and jumped out of the car, then waited a couple seconds while he drove away.
Ed was brushing coffee grounds off the counter when I walked in, and hesitated when he saw me. When he resumed, he seemed to be moving slower than before.
“Can we talk, Ed?”
He dropped the grounds into the trash and turned to face me. “What about?”
I picked up a green Magic 8-Ball on the counter and read my fortune: Buy pork bellies. Not likely.
Ed handed me a yellow 8-Ball with a smiley face instead. “Try this one.”
I turned it over and read the message: You’re fantastic. I felt my face redden, like I’d always dreamed of being admired by a Magic 8-Ball.
“What does it say?” he asked.
I swallowed. “It says I’ve been incredibly dumb.”
Ed bit his lip. “Seems a bit harsh to me.”
I looked up, fixed his eyes. “Not really.”
He rested his hands on the counter. They were only inches from mine. I wanted to touch them.
“You were wrong about the distance from Peabody to Gallaudet,” I told him. “I looked it up. It’s actually 36.98 miles.”
“I was rounding up.”
“The gas will be expensive.”
“Worth every penny.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me how you felt?”
Ed turned away, breaking the connection. After a glance at his watch he switched off the OPEN sign. Then he lingered beside the espresso machine. “What can I get you?” he asked.
I reached across the counter and placed my hand on his arm, made him face me again. “Don’t do that, Ed. I may be deaf, but I’ll listen to everything you have to say.”
He removed a filter from the machine, pounded it against a container to knock the coffee grounds