Free Operation: Normal by Linda V. Palmer

Kayly's half sister, a
girl he didn't find one bit attractive and certainly didn't want to get to know better. Too bad I
couldn't say the same thing about him.
    "I've been thinking about your list," he continued, "and I want to help you make it a
reality."
    "Which list?" Addled as I currently was, I couldn't think which of the twenty or so lists
in my red diary that he referred to.
    "How many do you have?" he asked.
    If he only knew.
    "Oh, that list." I faked a laugh. By now my face felt hot enough to be sunburned. I was
that flustered. I walked to the couch and plopped down on it, lifting my feet to rest on the coffee
table in a weak attempt to make myself relax. "Seriously?"
    "Yeah."
    "Even the part about your dad?"
    "I'll stand in for him."
    My heartbeat quickened, and not because I was talking to the nicest guy in Texas,
possibly the world. "So you honestly think the list has merit?"
    "If I didn't, I wouldn't be calling now, offering to help."
    "That's so sweet of you," I murmured, ninety-nine percent thrilled. The other one
percent felt a little conflicted for some reason I didn't have time to analyze just then.
    "So do you think we could get together tomorrow morning and talk about this? I'd like
to get the ball rolling before your mom gets home and puts the quietus on everything."
    "Quietus?"
    "Before she takes one look at me and vetoes our plans for normal."
    "Speaking of my mom, I just talked to her, and she actually sounds almost homesick. In
fact, I think she has some serious regrets about touring with Blak Magyk." I told him everything
Mom and I said, minus my confessing Minka's crazy theories about Heath's loving me, of
course.
    "Then you definitely need to have your ducks in a row. That way you can hit her with
the ol' one-two the minute she gets home."
    "The ol' one-two?"
    "That means--"
    "I know what it means. I just don't know anyone under the age of, oh, seventy who says
it anymore. Same goes for quietus, ducks in a row , and get the ball
rolling ."
    Zach groaned. "I know. I get ribbed about my vocabulary all the time. What can I say? I
like old slang, modern slang, any slang. I collect it, actually."
    I almost dropped my phone. "You mean you make lists of slang words?"
    "Nothing that organized. I do write them down on whatever's handy the minute I hear
them, so my fridge is covered with deposit slips, sticky notes, napkins, that sort of thing."
    "No wonder you're a Linguistics major."
    "How'd you know that?"
    Desperately, I thought back. "You told me."
    "No, I didn't."
    "Sure you did. This afternoon when we were talking. I mean, how else would I
know?"
    "But I don't remember mentioning it."
    That was because I'd heard it from Minka, who'd heard it from Cin, of course. "Well,
you must've. You know," I then said, trying to change the subject. "I don't remember you using
any old-timer expressions earlier today or even yesterday, either, for that matter."
    "I was holding back."
    Holding back? "Because?"
    "I didn't really know you."
    I smiled so big it hurt my face. "Thanks, Zach."
    "For...?"
    "Offering to help with my list. And for feeling comfortable enough around me to just be
yourself."
    He laughed at that. "So where do you want to talk tomorrow? Your apartment?"
    "No, let's go to the park," I said. "I'll go stir crazy--which means I'm already sick of this
place--if I can't get out during the day or at night."
    "Thanks, Ally."
    "For...?" I deliberately echoed his earlier response.
    "Passing on the baseball game. I know you wanted to go and spend time with your
bo--um, friends--and I had no right to ask you to stay home."
    "You're welcome."
    "What time tomorrow?"
    "Nine?" That'd give me a chance to grab a newspaper and look at it.
    "Works for me. I'll come up and get you. Goodnight, Ally."
    "Goodnight," I replied, snapping my phone shut.
    For several minutes I sat perfectly still on the couch, thinking about everything that
Zach said. I felt oddly on the defensive, almost as if Mom and I weren't good enough to