Make Me Forget - Page 69

“It’s cold,” she whispered.

He sat up slightly. “Are you catching something? Your nose sounds stopped up.”

“Probably from stress. My dad says you’re more likely to get sick if you’re under stress. And it’s freezing in here. Can’t we start the fire up again?”

Jake had insisted they dampen their campfire after they’d eaten their dinner of soup and Pop-Tarts. They’d shared the soup out of the can. He’d only brought one spoon. He’d been glad to learn that Harper didn’t seem to think it was gross to share it with him.

He eased back down onto his back. “We shouldn’t have a fire, unless we really need it for cooking. It’s risky. You can see a match glowing for hundreds of feet on a night as dark as this one.”

“Your uncle would have to be in the entrance of the cave to see the light, wouldn’t he?”

“Yeah. I’m not saying it’s likely anyone would see. Just better to be sure.”

The idea of Emmitt standing silently at the entrance of the cave, listening to their hushed voices, creeped him out. She didn’t reply, but he sensed her shudder. Maybe she’d thought of the same thing. Or maybe she was just freezing. It was chilly out for August. The temperature had fallen into the sixties with nightfall, and would probably go lower. Plus the dirt-covered limestone floor and the air in the cave were naturally cooler than outdoors.

He’d brought a total of four camp blankets, two in each backpack. They’d put down one each for them to lie on, and each of them had one to cover them. He wanted to suggest they could share the same blankets, but he was too nervous to say it out loud.

“How come you live with your uncle?” she whispered.

“My mom’s dead.”

“What from?”

“Cancer. I don’t hardly remember her. She died when I was four. We lived with Grandma Rose ’til then. My mom and Grandma Rose got along, even though Mom wasn’t her real daughter, only her daughter-in-law. Then Mom died, and Grandma Rose got too sick to take care of me. She’s got a bad heart. Damaged valves. She gets real weak. There was nowhere to put me but with child services or with Emmitt.”

He heard her shift in the darkness, and knew she faced him. The cheek nearest to her tingled, like his skin knew she was watching him in the darkness.

“What about your dad?” she whispered.

“Gone. He’s got bad blood.”

“You mean he was sick?”

“No. Just bad. Like Emmitt. Evil,” Jake replied darkly. “Grandma Rose says she doesn’t know where her boys got it from.”

“You shouldn’t worry that you’ll be like them.”

He twisted his head. “I’m not worried about that! I ain’t nothing like them.”

“I know. Glad you know, too,” she shot back, and he sensed her rustling again, trying to get comfortable on the hard ground. “My father says that both your genes and your life experiences go into making you who you are, but there’s always the X factor.”

Jake came up on his elbow, interested. “The X factor?”

“Yeah. An unknown factor. I don’t know why they call it the X factor,” she whispered.

“I do. I mean . . . maybe I do. Because X is the unknown. Like in math. When you solve equations, you solve for X.”

“That’s algebra, isn’t it? We don’t start it until next year. What grade are you going into?”

“Eighth.”

“Oh, I thought you were younger.”

He grimaced. “I’m going into eighth, but they let me take eighth-grade math last year. This year, I’ll take ninth-grade algebra. Advanced class,” he said, trying to bandage his wounded pride. Had she thought he was younger than her?

“I hate math,” she said.

“I love it. I mean . . . I don’t love it,” he amended, embarrassed. “But it’s okay. And I’m good at it. What do you like at school?”

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