Free Night World 1 by L.J. Smith Page A

for.”
    The first thing Poppy did was call James. He answered on the first ring and said, “How do you feel?”
    â€œDizzy. But pretty good,” Poppy said, whispering because her mother was outside talking to a nurse. “I’m coming home.”
    â€œI’ll come over this afternoon,” James said. “Call me when you think you’ll have an hour or so alone. And, Poppy…don’t tell Phil I’m coming.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI’ll explain later.”

    When she actually got home, it was strange. Cliff and Phil were there. Everybody was unusually nice to her, while still trying to pretend that nothing unusual was going on. (Poppy had heard the nurse tell her mother that it was good to try and maintain a normal routine.)
    It’s like my birthday, Poppy thought dazedly. Like some terribly important birthday and graduation rolled into one. Every few minutes the doorbell would ring as another flower arrangement arrived. Poppy’s bedroom looked like a garden.
    She felt badly for Phil. He looked so stricken—and so brave. She wanted to comfort him the way she’d comforted her mother—but how ?
    â€œCome here,” she ordered, opting for direct action. And when he obeyed, she hugged him tightly.
    â€œYou’ll beat this thing,” he whispered. “I know you will. Nobody’s ever had as much will to live as you do. And nobody’s ever, ever been as stubborn.”
    It was then that Poppy realized just how terribly she was going to miss him.
    When she let go, she felt light-headed.
    â€œMaybe you’d better lie down,” Cliff said gently. And Poppy’s mother helped her to the bedroom.
    â€œDoes Dad know?” she asked as her mother moved around the bedroom, straightening things.
    â€œI tried to get hold of him yesterday, but the people at the station said he’d moved to somewhere in Vermont. They don’t know where.”
    Poppy nodded. It sounded like her dad—always on the move. He was a DJ—when he wasn’t being an artist or a stage magician. He’d split up with her mom because he wasn’t very good at being any of those things—or at least not good enough to get paid much.
    Cliff was everything Poppy’s father wasn’t: responsible, disciplined, hardworking. He fit in perfectly with Poppy’s mom and Phil. So perfectly that sometimes Poppy felt like the odd one out in her own family.
    â€œI miss Dad,” Poppy said softly.
    â€œI know. Sometimes I do, too,” her mother said, surprising her. Then she said firmly, “We’ll find him, Poppy. As soon as he hears, he’ll want to come.”
    Poppy hoped so. She didn’t suppose she’d get a chance to see him—after.
    It wasn’t until an hour or so before dinnertime, when Phil and Cliff were out doing errands, and her mother was taking a nap, that Poppy got the chance to call James.
    â€œI’ll come right over,” he said. “I’ll let myself in.” Ten minutes later he walked into Poppy’s bedroom.
    Poppy felt strangely shy. Things had changed between her and James. They weren’t simply best friends anymore.
    They didn’t even say “Hi” to each other. As soon as he came in, their eyes caught and met. And then, for an endless moment, they just looked at each other.
    This time, when Poppy felt the quick pang in her chest that always came when she saw James, it was a throb of pure sweetness. He cared about her. She could see it in his eyes.
    Wait a minute, hang on, her mind whispered. Don’t jump the gun here. He cares about you, yes, but he didn’t say he was in love with you. There’s a difference.
    Shut up, Poppy told her brain soberly. Aloud, she said, “How come you didn’t want Phil to know you were here?”
    James threw his light windbreaker over a chair and sat down on Poppy’s bed. “Well—I just didn’t want to be