I lean over him. “I will say that until I’m purple because if I don’t, you will be literally—not figuratively, not metaphorically—dead, and I have no desire to go to prison. Not my scene. I wish you peace.”
While pushing off my locker, I “accidentally” knock him on his ass. Not super hard, but enough to end it for today because I can’t handle adding another ball to the juggling act I’m trying to pull off. No matter, he’s off to his new girlfriend’s house so he can go molest her in a quiet corner and she can coo and feel special that he chose her for the day. I’m alone again. But hey, this is great. I’m totally not feeling like ground-up slug on the bottom of someone’s shoe as I get into my mother’s car, which is waiting for me in the drop-off zone because she doesn’t trust me to get home by myself anymore.
I slam the car door shut.
“How was school today?” Mom asks, her attempt at sunshine falling short.
“Awesome. I made a lot of new friends, and everyone picked me to represent our class in the school spelling bee.”
The car pulls into traffic. “They still have spelling bees?”
“Uh-huh. And Becky and Suzie made me friendship bracelets at recess too.”
“Okay, enough.” She sighs, about to begin again. “You know, Dylan—”
“Please don’t,” I say.
“All I’m trying to say is—”
“Mom, not today, okay? Please.” Because I’m having a shit time and if you’re going to say anything, say I Love You. That’s it. No advice. No wheedling about my attitude. No momsplaining to me why JP and I need to go back to Square One and be bestest buddies for life. No opinions on my friends or lack thereof or school or grades or my imminent future. Just I Love You. That’s all. Done.
“We’re having some trouble, you and I. It’s obvious.”
“Mmm.” Astronauts can get the gist of it from space, so yeah.
“Maybe we need a break. Some time apart. Come back together in a stronger place.”
My ears perk up.
“I’ve decided to go to Pittsburgh,” she says, and I want to jump out and do the cha-cha.
“Really?”
“One of my coworkers ran into the same problem with her teenagers, and she said it was a breath of fresh air for everyone,” Mom says. “But there’s a but!”
“There’s always a but.”
“You have to follow the rules. You must answer your phone at all times. You must check in with the Swanpoles across the street when you get home from school and before you go to bed. You must do all your homework and you must go to school. You can hitch a ride with all the kids from junior high, I already called the lady who runs the buses. They’ll pick up on the corner of Going and 77th.” She draws in a breath. “You must not make me regret leaving.”
“Got it.”
“You and I need a reboot,” she says. “We both need to order some room service and watch a movie. Come home and everything will be back to normal.”
“I think it’s a good idea.”
A real good idea. A Nobel Prize–worthy idea. Some time when I can sit and eat as much food as I want without anyone reminding me how much it costs and play Madden until my hands are raw. She fills me in on some basic details, and after I wolf down a snack of three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, I’m upstairs in my room to call Jamie and tell her all about it.
She answers immediately. “Did you get your blood test? When do we find out Dylan the Giant has a posse?”
“Blood sucked out Friday, but I have news.”
“Tell me.”
“My mom’s going on a business trip to Pittsburgh.”
“This sounds promising.”
“Honestly, I’m just excited to have the house to myself,” I say. “She’s only gone for two days, one night, and I might as well wear an ankle monitoring bracelet, but it’s thirty-six hours without Mom. I’m psyched.”
“I’m so jealous.”
“Don’t be. It’s going to be me and about thirty of my closest pizza-shaped friends.”
“And maybe a little something else.”
My eyebrows raise. “Go on.”
“Let me ask you something, how fast can you grow a beard?”
“A full beard, or some scruff? I can do scruff in a day.”
“Good to know. How long for a full beard?”
“Like three days. Why?”
“When’s your mom going out of town?”
“Next Thursday.”
Jamie’s grin fires across the phone lines. “Start growing that beard on Monday.”
TWENTY-THREE