His Little Brother

Chapter Ten

The next morning, Jazz found herself surrounded by boxes and boxes of books. She was becoming overwhelmed by the minute, but didn't want to disturb her mom's writing time, and her dad had an important Skype call. 

As much as she enjoyed talking to Dylan and hearing stories about David as a kid, she wished that she had ended the call sooner—at least she would have had more time to work on organizing all the books in front of her. It was the day before the Book Fair and Jazz worried that she had bitten off more than she could chew by telling her group members that she could organize the books while they focused on getting everything settled at the children's home.

Hailey was her last resort to reach out for help, but she and her mom went to visit her dad and grandmother for the day.

Jazz was on her own.

She sighed as she sat on the floor of her school's library, and rested her forehead on her knees. She was grateful that Mrs. Cooper trusted her enough to allow her to use the library alone on a Saturday, but she wished that she had some company.

As soon as she had the thought, Jazz heard a door open. When she looked up, surprise filled her voice.

"Dylan, what are you doing here?"

"Hey, I'm sorry if this makes you sort of uncomfortable, but your dad told me you were here, so I thought I'd come and help. Is that okay?"

"How... how did you talk to my dad?" Jazz asked, ignoring the warm concern in his light eyes. She looked behind him, her eyes hopeful. 

He looked behind him and realized that she was expecting someone else. His eyes filling with knowing. "David's not here. It's just me." 

"Oh...how did you know I was here?" 

"I called your house, duh," he said nonchalantly, and sat down next to her on the floor. He smelled like freshly washed laundry. He was also wearing the very same dirty Converse she also wore.

"David had an extra pratcie today. I would have asked him to come help, but he's pretty obsessed with football nowadays. He really wants a scholarship." 

Jazz smiled, trying her best to hide her disappointment. "It's fine. Not all of us are geniuses you know. Some of us have to work a little harder." 

Dylan scoffed. "I think David is just a bit of an overachiever." He finally nudged her shoe with his own and smiled. "I've been meaning to tell you this sooner, but you have great taste in shoes."

Jazz looked down and laughed, despite how stressed she felt. "I can say the same."

"I think it's cool that you still wear them," he told her, crossing his legs at the ankles. Jazz couldn't help but notice how long his legs were.

"What do you mean?"

Dylan looked over at her and smiled shyly. Jazz was taken aback. She had never seen him look shy before. He was always so sure of himself. 

"I was sort of asking your dad about you one day, and he told me that a few months before she died, your grandmother bought you and her a pair of matching white sneakers. He said that you always wear them. I thought that was cool...and cute." He smiled at her again, revealing his dimples, and Jazz felt her heart skip a beat. 

Spending too much time talking to him was obviously making her crazy. 

She looked away and changed the subject. "You...you called my house?" 

"Yes," he chucked. "Did I not call your house last night?"

"Well yeah, but...I didn't think you would make it a daily thing."