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Ganny? There’s only one woman I know in town who goes by the name “Ganny” and it’s the matriarch of the Taylor family. Cash’s grandmother. That means this little girl has to be the daughter of one of the Taylor siblings. There are five of them.
“Ganny didn’t show up?” I had fond memories of Ganny Taylor. I’d spent countless hours at her house, playing in the old treehouse in her backyard with Cash as kids, swimming at the quarry while she kept a watchful eye.
The girl gnaws on her bottom lip. “I was meant to meet her,” she whispers. “But I didn’t get on the bus.”
“May I ask why?”
The girl swallows. “I didn’t want to go on the school bus. I don’t like the bus.” She presses her lips together in a line.
I take a deep breath. “I get that. Sometimes it’s not easy to do things we don’t like doing. But I’m pretty sure that Ganny’s really worried about you right about now, and that she just wants to make sure you’re okay. If we tell her you’re here, she’ll probably be relieved.”
The girl plucks at her dress.
“Can I get Marci over there to call her?” I ask, pointing to my friend, who has gone pale and is gesturing to me frantically. I give her a quizzical look before turning back to the girl. “Are you allowed ice cream?”
She nods eagerly. I’m not sure if that’s true or not, but I’m not above plying this child with ice cream if it will cheer her up. “A Spoonful of Sugar” is one of my favorite childhood songs. Besides, I remember Ganny Taylor doling out cherry-topped sundaes when I was about this girl’s age.
“All right, so here’s the deal. I’ll call Ganny so she can pick you up, and I’ll get you an ice cream to sweeten the deal. Sound good?”
The girl’s lips part. “Alex.”
“Alex? That’s a cool name.”
She breaks into a broad smile that looks oddly familiar. “June’s cool too.”
“Well, how about that? We have something in common.” I look over at Marci. “Can you call Ganny Taylor and tell her Alex is here?”
Marci swallows like I’ve asked her to perform open-heart surgery. “I already have.” Why does she look so unhappy about it?
Four
CASH
“She’s fine, Cash,”Ganny says, walking along beside me.
We’re almost at the Heartstopper—an accurate description of how I’m feeling right about now. I tighten my grip on my grandmother’s arm. Ganny is closing in on ninety and she absolutely can’t be a permanent solution to my nanny issue, especially not now that Alex has pulled this stunt.
I don’t know what’s gotten into my kid, and that scares me.
Why would she not get on the school bus? It’s not like her. She’s my little rocker kid, my little rebel, but she’s never done anything this disobedient before.
I’m a mixture of angry and sick. Angry because this situation is out of my control, sick because I feel like this is my fault. I can’t be everywhere at once. I can’t—
Ganny squeezes my arm and peers up into my face. She’s got the blue eyes that are the hallmark of the Taylor family, and she pairs them with a stare that could cut glass. At her age, she should be all soft around the edges, in need of extra care, but she’s aged like leather and equally as tough. She reaches up and pats me on the cheek, gray-blue hair bobbling. “Take it easy, Cash, honey. She’s a girl. She’s finding herself.”
“She could have wound up in danger.”
Ganny doesn’t point out that Heatstroke is safe, and that maybe I’m being unreasonable, and I appreciate that.
I open the door, the bell tinkling overhead only serving to piss me off.
Marci Walsh stares at me from behind the counter, round-eyed. “H-hi—”
“Where’s—?” I start, but before I can say more than a word, two arms wrap around my middle.
“Dad, I’m sorry,” Alex whispers. “I didn’t mean to. I—”
My gaze fixes on my daughter, tuning out the rest of the diner. I tilt her chin upward. “I don’t know why or what this was about but we’re going to talk about this at home this evening.”
