Jared took a step past her. “I’ll talk to your dad. Man-to-man. I’ll explain that everything was my fault. If we just talk—”
She took his arm in a tighter grip. “No, you can’t talk to him.” Her voice was sharp and biting, like the cold wind. It cut through everything. “He insisted on coming with me to keep an eye on me, to make sure I don’t . . .”
“To make sure of what?”
“Just . . . talking to him won’t work. He wants me with him.”
“Sure. He’s your dad, but we can still be together.”
“I know how he is.”
But Jared didn’t listen. He slipped free and stepped to the car. He raised his fist and knocked on the passenger-side window. Up close he saw the pockmarks on the side of the man’s face, saw the power behind his heavy-lidded eyes. He knocked again, and still the man didn’t flinch. In fact, he turned away, showing Jared the back of his head. The gesture seemed defiant, as if the man wanted to prove how little he needed to heed anything Jared had to say. As if he wanted Jared to feel small.
“Sir? Mr. Burke?”
Jared straightened up and started around the car, heading for the driver’s side. But Tabitha intercepted him. Her face looked desperate, more scared than he’d ever seen it. Even more scared than the day before when he tried to walk with her to her house and speak to her dad as he paced on the porch, cigarette glowing.
“That’s it, Jared. I’m going. I have to go with my father. And you have to go home. Really, just go home. It’s better that way, I promise.”
Again she gave him a shove, lighter than the one she’d given him the day before. The message was the same. She didn’t want him around. She wanted him away from her.
Jared lost his balance, the backpack pulling him toward the ground. He didn’t fall, but by the time he righted himself, Tabitha was slipping into the passenger side of the car. He reached out, a fruitless attempt to stop her, but her father hit the gas and the car sped off before she even buckled her seat belt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
When Jenna came home, she found the door to Jared’s room closed, the lights off. His backpack sat on a kitchen chair, dropped there as if he’d been in a hurry. It wasn’t like him to do that, since he usually started on homework pretty soon after coming in the door.
Jenna stood in the hallway her ear pressed to his door. Nothing. No fumbling, no moaning. No music or sounds of video games. She knocked lightly, using the knuckle of her index finger.
A muffled reply came back. “Yeah?”
“Just seeing if you’re here.”
“I’m here,” he said. “And I’m alone.”
Jenna felt chastened. But she had been worried about that. She didn’t want her house to turn into a hookup location for her son or anyone else. As a single mother, she felt as though she was under greater scrutiny from other parents. If something went wrong, if some disaster occurred in her house, she knew what they’d say. Well, she’s trying to raise that boy alone. . . .
And Tabitha’s dad sounded so strict. She ran out of their house the day before in order to meet a curfew, an early curfew. Jenna didn’t need the community’s toughest dad on her case.
“Are you hungry?” Jenna asked, still standing before the closed door.
Jared offered her a soft grunting noise. She couldn’t tell if it was a yes or a no. She placed her hand on the knob and turned. The door swung inward, and she stuck her head in. The room was dark, her son an indistinct lump beneath a pile of covers. His shoes and socks lay scattered on the carpet, his jeans tossed over a chair.
“Honey? What did you say? Are you hungry?”
“No.”
She waited for more of an explanation but didn’t get one.
“Is everything okay?” Jenna asked. She came closer to the bed, but Jared didn’t move. “What is it?”
“I’m just . . . I’m not feeling well. I’m not going to eat.”
Jenna placed her hand against his forehead. He didn’t flinch or try to turn away. But he didn’t feel warm. A little clammy from being wrapped in the covers, but no fever. “Are you sick to your stomach?”
“Sure.”
“Sure? What is this about, really?”
“Mom, I just . . . I want to be alone.”
Jenna remembered the night before, how she pushed too hard and drove him away. If he wanted to be in a mood and hole up in his room, so be it. He rarely acted like a depressed, angsty teenager, so she figured she could indulge him this once. If he wasn’t sick, it must be girl trouble. And she didn’t think he wanted her advice about that, not yet anyway.
“That’s fine,” she said. “I’ve had kind of a long day too. But I only had a salad for lunch, so I’m going to make grilled cheese or something.” She threw out one of his favorites, hoping to see if he might go for it. But he didn’t respond. He pulled the covers tighter around his body, returning to his cocoon. “If you want something later, just let me know.”
He grunted again. She backed away and slipped out of the room, leaving him to his misery.
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