Drive Me Crazy Read Online Free PDF Page A

tells us to be ready to head down to the pool in fifteen, and then shuts the door behind him. This room is so beautiful, picking berries with Cassie was so fun, and the drive was so incredible, I feel more relaxed than I have since Mom’s headaches started. I flop down on the nearest bed, stretching myself out and making what would be a snow angel in the poufy down comforter.
    “Isn’t this great?” I say to Cassie, smiling at the ceiling.
    “Ugh,” she says. “I’m not touching that bed before a shower. I’m filthy.”
    With that she grabs about three different toiletry bags from her suitcase, plus a handful of bathing suits, before disappearing into the bathroom without asking me whether I need to use it or not.
    Suddenly aware of my own dried-sweat T-shirt and still slightly dusty shins and feet, I hop up, pounding the comforter with my palm to bang out any dirt I might’veleft. Even looking super careful, though, the whole thing is still snowfield white, only a little more lumpy from all my efforts.
    I decide it’s good that Cassie wanted to go straight into the shower anyway, since I need to call Mom to let her know we’re here. I want to see if her voice contains the same tiredness it did this morning. She keeps saying she’s just a little “under the weather,” and I let her think I believe her because I don’t want her to worry about me being worried. But I’m not in fifth grade anymore. That she’s trying to hide it means it’s really bad. So the more often I can check on her, the better.
    She picks up on the second ring, bright and happy. Which makes me miss her in a way I wasn’t until just now, but I plunge in and tell her about berry picking, our game of naming pets, and the breathtaking drive above the ocean.
    “Oh, I’m so glad you got to see that highway,” she says. “It’s one of the most beautiful drives I’ve been on in my life. Your father and I did it when we first got married, and I’ve always wanted to take you.”
    A guilty swirl happens in my chest. Mom’s always wanted to take me, and now because I’ve already gone with my grandparents, and she’s obviously so sick—no matter what she’s pretending—maybe she’ll never get to.
    I change the subject to chase the bad thought away.“You should see our hotel, too. There are flowers everywhere. What’s that kind with the dark glossy leaves and the bright pink—”
    “Bougainvillea. Your father loves that stuff. It’s very responsive.”
    “Well, it’s everywhere here.”
    Immediately I miss Dad too—picturing how he’d gaze around that big beautiful lobby with all its arches and terra-cotta tile. My whole chest fills with wanting them both to be here, with me, now. And for nothing bad to be happening. Or for them not to have sent me away while it is.
    Getting homesick after not even a day seems babyish even to me, though, so I push all those feelings further down.
    “And how’s Cassie?” Mom wants to know.
    “She’s doing great. What about you?” I try to make it sound like I’m just asking because it’s what you ask, instead of because I’m worried that any moment she may collapse from exhaustion and stop breathing.
    “Oh, it’s a busy day, but good,” Mom says. “I’ll miss you being there when I get home tonight. No freckle-arms to greet me with a hug.”
    “Well, I’m sending you one right now, then.” I close my eyes and squeeze my mom as hard as I can in my mind.
    Mom makes an “mmm” sound, and the missing feelingcrashes over me again. I worry my voice will fail when I say, “Miss you, Mom.”
    “Miss you too. Dad’ll be sorry he wasn’t here to say hi.”
    “I’ll send him a picture or two of those flowers.”
    We say our good-byes, and when the call ends, I immediately want to text Dad, but Cassie will be out of that bathroom soon. As far as I know, she hasn’t communicated with her parents at all, and I still don’t want to look like a baby.
    But she doesn’t come right out