99 Reasons Why It Wasn't Love

16 | Reasons Fifteen and Sixteen

Home sick, plus an itch to write, plus Chem essay that isn't going to get done equals new chapter. Looks like it's your lucky day!

Reasons Fifteen and Sixteen

“That’s cheating.”

I looked up – I was caught in the act, apprehended, red handed, whatever people call it these days. Thatcher’s voice wasn’t raised above an urgent whisper, but it still felt like cop cars were cornering me in some dark alley.

Time to whip out any innocence and eyelash batting I had in my arsenal. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Thatcher smirked. “Yeah right, and I’m the Pope.”

“You do look kind of wrinkly.”

I got a face-full of well-deserved justice and napkin for that one, which I easily brushed into my growing pile. Looked like it was my lucky day; if we had been bricklaying instead of learning origami, I might have ended up with a couple missing teeth.

“You thought you were all discreet, keeping your safety-pin stash hidden,” Thatcher said, pointing at me accusingly with a free finger. “But I’ve got my eye on you.”

“A safety pin?” I held one hand to my chest in mock surprise. “My, my, that sounds like a funny contraption.”

“And you,” he mimicked me, “sound like my grandmother.”

“I gladly accept that compliment. She’s a great lady.”

Thatcher looked like he wanted to agree – or maybe sneeze, it was hard to distinguish the two – when Jane swept into the room, wielding a spatula like her only defense. Sure, Thatcher had good aim with those napkins, but I doubted this ‘fun-filled family time’ would end up in a culinary war.

“Napkins! We need more napkins!”

Thatcher chuckled. “Cool your jets. I’ve got a whole stack right here.”

I nodded. “So do I.”

“You do not.”

“At least half of them are decent,” I said defensively. Instinctively, I inched my leg over my secret stash of safety pins, concealing any shiny silver under my skirt. Some secrets are better left untold.

“One fourth.”

“Two-and-a-half fifths.”

Thatcher chuckled, extending one arm, crumpled sleeve and all. “Deal.”

Jane watched on with a dazed look on her face, like she couldn’t quite piece together napkins and bets. Honestly, I couldn’t either, but at least I had a few weeks of practice. By now, I was practically a natural at enveloping myself in whatever weird turns our conversations took. Right up to the reasons, which always made my throat stick and palms tingle, no matter what.