My blood approves

“No, don’t be.” He ran a hand through his brown hair and looked away from me. “When I asked if you were gonna be home tonight, I was upset. But it was because you’ve been gone so much lately, and the other night, when I thought you were going to stay home and eat with me, you left. I just haven’t seen you very much. I kind of missed you.”

“Oh, Milo, I am sorry!” My eyes filled with tears, and I knew I couldn’t fight it off any longer. He had just missed me, and then I had been so horrible to him.

I had been gone a lot lately, thanks to Jack, and I hadn’t even really considered how Milo felt about it. No, scratch that. I did consider it; I just didn’t care. I had to be the worst sister in the world. Really.

“Let me finish,” Milo interjected quietly. “But… you were right. I am attracted to Jack. And guys in general. I just didn’t know how to tell you, or even how to tell myself, I guess. So that’s why I’ve been so distant lately.”

“You know I love you no matter what, right?” I could feel tears streaming down my cheeks, and I threw my arms around him. He squirmed a little but let me hug him. “I am so sorry I haven’t been around! I promise I’ll spend more time with you!”

“You don’t have to.” He pulled back from my grip but stayed close to me.

“I know that! I want to! I’ve missed you too. And I’m just so sorry for everything.”

“You can quit apologizing,” Milo said, not unkindly. “You didn’t really do that much wrong.”

“I still feel horrible,” I sniffled.

“Yeah, I get that.” He smiled, and I laughed a little.

“We’ll hang out tomorrow. I promise.”

“Okay,” Milo yawned. “I really need to get to bed, though. It’s way past my bedtime.” He got up and started walking to his bedroom.

“Okay,” I nodded, feeling genuinely sad to see him go. “Hey, Milo? I love you.”

“I know.” Then he disappeared into the darkness of his room. I went into my room and changed into my pajamas. I curled up underneath my covers, and for the first time in a long time, I cried myself to sleep.

Chapter 6

At school, Jane poked and prodded me, then repeatedly told me that I looked like hell. I’m sure it had something do with how terrible I had slept last night, and all the strange dreams I couldn’t quite remember. They were mostly a blur of images that I couldn’t decipher, except for one clear image: Peter’s eyes burning through me. Of course, I couldn’t explain any of this to Jane. It still was a struggle for her not to mention Jack, so I couldn’t either.

Milo had seemed to return to his normal self, much to my relief. When we got home, he started talking rapidly about this new recipe he wanted to try out.

Somehow last night, I’d managed to forget to eat anything, and at lunch, I had still felt too tired and out-of-it to really eat. But once I was in the safety of my apartment listening to Milo rattle of a list of ridiculously tasty ingredients, my appetite came back full swing.

We went to the grocery store to get his recommended supplies, but I was too hungry to wait, so I ate a pear in the store. Milo looked embarrassed, even though I insisted that I’d pay for it (and I did). Taking the groceries home was always a project because we had to take the bus with arm loads of bags. I wished Mom would spring and buy a decent car, but it didn’t seem like it was in the cards.

Jack hadn’t text messaged me yet, and I tried to pretend like that didn’t bother me. All through supper, while I attempted to help Milo cook, I had to constantly fight the urge to check my cell phone in my pocket to make sure it was on or I hadn’t missed a message. After my incident cutting my finger (which apparently hadn’t been that minor since I still required a Boba Fett Band-Aid), Milo left me with all the easy jobs, like washing vegetables, measuring ingredients, and buttering bread.

His supper was something ridiculously good. We sat at the table, where I promptly devoured everything. Mom woke up, and we offered her a plate, but she just shook her head and hurried out the door. We’d seen her for a total of ten minutes that day, but I imagined that if we were to add it up, we saw her an average of an hour a week.

“You should really go to culinary school,” I told Milo. We were still sitting at the table, and I had one knee pulled up to my chest, which was getting more uncomfortable the more I ate. I had already cleaned one plate and had started on a second, but I was starting realize that my eyes were larger than my stomach. “You’re amazing. This is definitely something you should do for a living.”

“I’ve kind of looked into it.” He shrugged modestly, and he didn’t have a clue what an amazing cook he was. Milo never believed he was good at anything, no matter what I told him. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you still have a few years to think about it, but you’re too good to keep this hidden from the world.” I took another bite, but my stomach screamed in protest. I forced myself to push my plate away, knowing that I would explode if I continued eating.