Notes from the Blender Read Online Free PDF Page B

Griffin’s spiky blue mohawked head and stupid stoner eyes staring back at me from the picture on Roger’s desk just sealed the deal. No way was I hanging around some drugged-out boy who so seriously lacked balls he couldn’t even stand by his dad when the going got tough. Not even if it was just for one night.
    “Roger, if you hadn’t already noticed, Griffin and I don’t exactly run with the same kind of crowd.”
    His eyes locked right into mine. “And like I’ve told you before, Neilly, Griff isn’t who you think he is.”
    I cut Roger off before he could really get going. I know some parents can be blind to their kid’s faults, but this was ridiculous. Could Roger really not see he’d spawned a hell raising wastoid who only cared about himself? “I’m sure he is, Roger. And I’m sure he’ll make some girl completely, deliriously happy. That girl’s just not me.”
    “I meant you could go together as friends,” he clarified. “Have someone to hang out with who’s not over forty years old.”
    I shook my head, maybe a little too emphatically.
    Roger patted my knee. “Fine. Just know that Griffin will be there if you decide you want to shake a leg on the dance floor or something. The band is going to be killer.”
    “Thanks,” I said, standing up to leave. “Can you just tell my dad I stopped by?”
    “Sure thing,” he said. “Need a lift anywhere?”
    I shook my head again. “No, thanks.” I mean, where did I think I was going anyway? Not home, that was for sure. Not to Lu’s. Not to Sam’s. I was like a total homeless—not to mention friendless—person.
    Without even really thinking about it, I soon found myself back at the little church. Kneeling down in a pew, I clasped my hands tightly together and rested my head in them. I guess I was hoping for a miracle.
    And I got one. Kind of.
    “You okay?” a soft female voice asked.
    I looked up to see Declan’s aunt Sarah. “Not really.”
    Aunt Sarah slid into the pew next to me, put an arm around me, and squeezed me tight. “You’ve had a tough day.”
    I nodded. Words failed me, but Aunt Sarah didn’t. She took me to her office, handed me a really bitter cup of coffee that I tried to doctor up with four packets of sugar and five little creamer cups, and let me spill my guts. What I liked most about her was that she didn’t try to fix anything, like most adults do when you go to them with a problem—she just listened. Without judgment. And it was really nice to be able to let my guard down and vent freely for once.
    I was still blabbing when my father finally showed up—I’d texted him where I was between the coffee-doctoring and the gut-spilling. To my surprise, he and Aunt Sarah greeted each other like total BFFs. Apparently, this was the church Dad had been trying to get me to attend with him on Sundays. While I’d been busy boycotting God, he’d gone and found a more tolerant version of Him. Here. With Aunt Sarah. Small world, huh?
    So after they were done hugging and hi-ing and how-are-you-ing, my dad turned to me and said, “I’ll take you home now, Neilly. Your mom has been worried sick about you.”
    I hadn’t responded to a single one of her texts or voice mails since I’d caught her with Afternoon Delight Dude. “Dad, please. Let me stay with you, at least for a couple of days,” I begged. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to act normal after seeing Mom like that. I mean, I feel like I should poke my eyes out and get a lobotomy so I never have to think about it again.”
    “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” he asked, putting a hand on my back and gently steering me toward the door. “Thanks, Sarah, for being such a good sounding board for my daughter today. We really appreciate it.”
    “And I really appreciate the difficult position she’s in,” Aunt Sarah said, giving me a supportive nod. “In fact, I think I just might’ve convinced Neilly to give my youth group a try, to help her deal