chapter 10 I was right. When I was sure that I was going to do it, that I was going to find my father, I called Emmett and told him there was something important I wanted to talk to him about. “I don’t need lectures from my big sister,” he said. “If this is about Charla and the pregnancy, forget it. It’s my business.” “It’s not about Charla.” “Then what?” “I don’t want to get into it on the phone,” I told him. “It’s the kind of thing you talk about in person.” “What?” he said. “Just tell me.” “I’m going to find our father.” Silence. “Emmett?” “You’re going to find that asshole?” he shouted. “Why? What the hell for?” “Emmett, I don’t want to talk about this on the phone,” I said again. “Can you meet me for coffee? I’ll come downtown.” “Fine,” he muttered. “On the way down, think about what a bad idea it is to go find that loser, and by the time you show up, I’ll be able to convince you not to do it.” When I arrived at a diner a few blocks away from Charla’s apartment, Emmett was using his fork to poke at the ice cubes in his water glass.
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