The Fixes Read Online Free PDF Page A

party.”
    â€œ Please don’t tell Dad,” Eric begs her. “I know I should have called, and I should have brought the car home, but, like—he’ll flip out if he hears this.”
    His mom doesn’t say anything for a beat or two. She just studies Eric’s face, like a judge mulling the death penalty. Eric holds her gaze and tries to look sorry.
    Finally, his mom sighs. “I guess it’s better that you didn’t drive drunk,” she says. “What your dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
    Eric hugs his mom. “I swear, it won’t happen again.”
    â€œIt’s normal to blow off steam,” his mom says. “You worked so hard this year; I’m glad you’re out with your friends. Just be careful you don’t go overboard, okay?”
    Eric pours himself a glass of water. Drinks it, and feels a million times better already.
    â€œI won’t go overboard,” he tells his mom. “I learned my lesson, I swear.”

39.
    It’s not exactly a lie.
    (Eric’s hungover as hell.)
    (He thinks he’s through with partying.)
    (He’s thinks he’s going to spend the summer BEING RESPONSIBLE and LIVING UP TO EXPECTATIONS.)
    (He thinks he’s going to be the perfect Connelly Man.)
    Holy shit, is he wrong.

40.
    Nobody at Capilano knows anything about the Suicide Pack. There’s, like, a whole cottage industry sprung up in the wake of Callum Fulchrest’s personal fiasco, every kid in town trying to figure out who’s behind that mysterious Vine.
    But nobody claims credit. Nobody steps forward.
    (There isn’t even anything in the news about the Fulchrests’ stolen Basquiat. And that doesn’t seem right.)
    (I mean, it sounds like a big deal, doesn’t it? A million-dollar painting stolen. A whole school full of suspects—it’s like the inciting incident in a shitty movie.)
    But there’s nothing in the news. No police come to take Eric’s statement. Nobody’s talking about the missing Basquiat—not in public, anyway. But everyone from Cap High is talking about the Suicide Pack on Kik.
    But SuIcIdEpAcK stays silent.
    And nobody else has any answers.

41.
    Jordan doesn’t message Eric. They never set up a tutoring session. Eric figures he was right; Jordan was just trying to make him feel better.
    Trying to let him down easy.
    It hurts, but, you know, it is what it is.
    (Anyway, Connelly Men don’t have time for romance.)
    (Especially not with Harrison Grant’s kid.)
    Eric feels like maybe, just maybe, he’s been spared something. Like—maybe this is a good thing?

42.
    Eric’s dad comes home. He doesn’t find out about the party.
    Eric sweats out his hangover for the rest of the weekend. Picks his courses for first semester and downloads the textbooks. Eric shows his dad his schedule.
    Intro to Political Systems.
    International Relations.
    Elements of Political Theory.
    Statistics.
    American Literature.
    (“I needed an arts elective,” Eric tells his dad.)
    Eric’s dad purses his lips together and frowns. “Hmm,” he says, in that way that tells Eric he should already be taking, I dunno, Advanced Corporate Litigation and, like, How to Be President When You’re Only Seventeen.
    â€œHmm.”

43.
    Anyway.
    Monday comes, and Eric goes back to the law firm. He goes back to the little room with the really old computer, and he spends the next eight hours inputting data from the stacks of paper files.
    He does this on Tuesday.
    He does this on Wednesday.
    He does this on Thursday.
    He does not pass Go. He does not collect $200. He does not have any fun.
    He is the model of the perfect Connelly Man.

44.
    And that’s all that matters, right?
    You start young. You build your future instead of farting around—
    (or so Eric’s dad is always saying).
    Short-term pain, long-term gain.
    Etc.
    Still, Eric drives past the beach every night