Page 73 of Troublemaker: The Big Picture Edition

Franklin stares at me for a weird couple of seconds before saying, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but are you sure you wantto write dirty text messages to him? If you’re dating him in secret and you’re so worried about people at school finding out—you do take your phone to school with you, you know? People steal phones.”

“I’ll just delete the texts when we’re done. I’ll ask him to delete them on his phone too. I trust him.”

“Okay, well…” He calls out to his mother, disappears from view for a moment, and then returns and says, “I have to go. Just text me if you really need me. I’ll keep my phone with me.”

“Ugh. Fine. What are you helping your mom with?”

His mouth becomes a straight line and he barely moves it to say, “I have to put on pajamas and drink hot toddies while watchingA Charlie Brown Christmaswith her. It’s a tradition. Shut up, goodbye!”

He ends the call before I can tell him how cute that is. I love Christmas. I miss Alex, though. I even miss Ryder.

It has been a day and a half since I’ve seen Alex. I’ve been wandering around my parents’ house with a big dopey grin on my face. I just tell them that I’m glad to have a break from school. I can’t tell them that the real reason I’m so happy is because I’m secretly dating the father of one of my students. They will have strong opinions about it, and I don’t want them or anyone else to burst my bubble. It’s a beautiful bubble. I’m going to enjoy being in it while I can.

And I’m going to make this beautiful bubble really dirty.

I add a few sext ideas to my list and flip the notebook over as soon as I hear a knock at the door.

“Emilia, dear? Are you still in there?”

“Yeah, Mom. I’m just making notes. For school stuff. What’s up?”

She fiddles with the doorknob. “Did you lock the door?”

“Oh, is it locked?”

“Emilia, open the door please so I don’t have to yell.”

I slide my notebook under the pillow and straighten myself up before unlocking the door. As if my mother would somehow be able to know just from looking at me in my knitted Christmas sweater that I was composing dirty text messages to my secret boyfriend.

I open the door to face my mother, who is wearing the same sweater, perfectly set medium waves in her hair, green velvet track pants with red reindeer slippers, and an apron that saysKeep calm and have another glass of wine.She is drying her hands on a dishtowel when she frowns at me and leans in to whisper, “Brush your hair, Emilia. Brent is downstairs.”

“What? Now?”

“Yes. He just came over.”

“Well, I don’t want to see him. Tell him to go away.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“He didn’t even text me to ask if he could come over. How does he even know I’m here?”

“I told him.”

“When?”

“When I ran into him at Albertsons last week.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know if he’d come by or not. Maybe you should change out of that sweater.”

“Mom. I don’t want to see him. Why did you invite him in? Why would you do that?”

“He brought a gift basket! I can’t turn him away. He’s not a vampire, Emilia. He’s your ex-boyfriend. He’s still single, and he wants to see you. Don’t make Dad wait down there with him, now. You know he’s not good at small talk.”

“Well, neither am I.”

“Then talk to him about important things.”