Chapter 19

Dad couldn’t get rid of the smell out of the carpet. He didn’t want to wake Mom and have to explain to her why I had been drinking and getting in after midnight.

“I think I trampled more of your mother’s flowers on the way up the rain gutter,” he said.

“Just keep your voice down so nobody hears you,” I said.

Rocco propped himself up against the headboard, adjusted his baseball hat. In the soft light of the moon, he looked cool, punk-like, skateboarder rad.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I said, sitting hunched over on the edge of the bed, smiling and runninga hand through my hair.

“What’s that smell?” he asked. “It’s like somebody puked out his guts.”

“What are you doing here, Rocco? It’s late.”

“I know. I’m sorry for waking you up. But I’ve decided to take your advice and do the right thing.”

“What’s that? To stop hiding at Lela’s and come out and live with the rest of us?”