A Friend at Midnight by Caroline B. Cooney Page B

us back.” They both knew Michael had not missed them.
    What a huge and awe-ful gift to a father: I’m yours. I’m all yours. I’m throwing everything away in order to be yours. And the father didn’t notice. The father had better stuff to do. Toss the kid back. Will the kid make it home? Who knows? Who cares?
    â€œI know what,” said Michael. “I’m very sick. I’m going to lose all my hair and have brain surgery.” Because it would be okay to be sad, pale and wasted if he had IV needles and visitors and a funeral.
    â€œNo,” said Lily. “Mom would race you to the pediatrician’s and he’d give you shots. That won’t work. And we don’t want a reason where Dad throws you out. We want one where you throw him out. Let’s make Dad disgusting. That won’t be hard. He is disgusting. You left because you found out that he kicks puppies. Shoots bald eagles. Leaves loaded guns around the house for eight-year-old boys to play with.”
    â€œNo,” said Michael.
    â€œHe stages fake car accidents to get insurance money. He’s up all night on disgusting Internet sites. He deals drugs at elementary schools.”
    â€œNo, no and no.”
    â€œHe won’t let you play baseball. He says it’s too slow and he can’t be bothered.”
    Michael flinched. “Yes,” he whispered, even more softly. “Lily, I thought we would play catch.”
    Lily had not known that she could despise denrose even more.
    How could Mom have married this man to start with? Mom—
    Mom.
    She’d probably been calling the house all day, leaving frantic messages, wondering where Lily and Nathaniel were. She might even have called Amanda to see if Lily had gone over there.
    Lily and Amanda had been friends since they were six weeks old and placed in the same infant care. Lily and Amanda shopped together, did their hair together, took the same classes, texted hourly, over the years had taken ballet and flute and tennis together.
    Lily had not thought of Amanda once today. Lily had forgotten the whole world except Michael. She wondered whether to tell Amanda any of this. For once, Lily had no idea what Amanda might say or do.
    â€œI better phone Mom,” she told Michael, “so she doesn’t worry.”
    â€œWhat are you going to tell her?” said Michael anxiously.
    â€œLies.”
    Michael gripped her arm. How small and cold his fingers were. Whereas Lily was burning. She was a furnace. “I don’t want to talk,” Michael whispered. “Don’t tell her I’m here.”
    Lily nodded. Since she had Mom’s cell, she called Kells on his. “Hi, Kells, can I talk to Mom?” she said, hoping to brush right past her stepfather.
    â€œSure can,” he said, always cheerful. It was good that somebody in the family had that attitude.
    â€œLily!” cried her mother. “Where are you?”
    No need to respond to difficult questions. “Guess what. Michael’s coming home.”
    â€œMichael’s coming home?”
    â€œYup. I guess it didn’t work out. When are you getting back? Do you like Reb’s roommate? What’s the campus like?”
    â€œMichael’s coming home?”
    â€œYup,” said Lily. “Nathaniel and I are picking Michael up at the airport. Nate’s sound asleep, he doesn’t even know what’s happening. Did Reb cry when you left her at her dorm or did she kick you out in ten seconds?”
    â€œLily! This is so wonderful! I’m so happy! He’s coming home! This is—Oh, dear. I guess I should call your father.” Mom hated talking to Dad. She had to gird herself for days to make a call.
    â€œI handled it,” said Lily. “I bet from now on you can skip phone calls. The occasional e-mail should do it.”
    â€œMichael’s coming home,” Mom repeated, as if in prayer. “What airline, Lily? When does the