She’s holding a glass of wine. She sips it and regards me suspiciously, scrutinizing my appearance. I wish I’d worn something other than my ripped jeans and concert T-shirt. “Ellery Stevens, right? How nice of you to help out with Atticus’s dance.”
“Thanks,” I squeak out, looking down at my shoes. I don’t know why she makes me nervous, but she does.
“You’re Trent Stevens’s daughter, right? The one who . . . well, never mind.”
I jerk my gaze from my shoes as rage swirls in my chest. I knew she’d bring it up. It’s no secret she blames me for him leaving. She made it clear last year that she blamed me for the accident, too, that I deserved to rot in jail for killing my sister, an example of what not to do when driving in inclement weather, she had said. Luckily the cops didn’t agree. They deemed it an accident, but that doesn’t mean I’m not in my own kind of prison anyway. “Yes, ma’am.”
She chuckles, but it sounds forced. “Oh, don’t call me ma’am, you make me sound old.” She lifts the corners of her mouth in a smile that looks more like a sneer. “Trent was one of our best attorneys. I’m sorry we lost him to Atlanta. Is he enjoying it there?”
“I’m sure he is,” I say with an attitude I didn’t know would come out.
She narrows her eyes at me. “Well, good,” she says, clipped. “How do you know my son, Ellery?” she asks, tipping her head to the side, sounding innocent, but again it’s fake. It’s clear she doesn’t want me anywhere around him.
“We . . . uh . . . .”
I feel like I’m naked in a nightmare.
“We have English together, Mom,” Colter finishes for me.
“How nice,” she says in a masked tone. She takes a small sip of wine. I watch the red liquid tip and flow into her gulping mouth.
I cringe. Colter hasn’t picked up on her venom toward me. She’s grasping her wine glass like it’s my head and she wants to shatter it.
Colter looks at me so thoughtfully, so sincere. “Actually, the first time we met was at work.” He smiles.
I know my cheeks are reddening and I’m mortified. Her expression changes to shock. She can see the attraction between us. She knows.
She nods slowly and gulps down the rest of her wine. “How nice,” she repeats like before, then walks away without another word.
A shudder snakes up my back.
Colter leans down and comes closer. “She’s a little uptight,” he whispers in my ear. He leans back and gives me a thoughtful look. “So, the football game?”
I can’t look into his innocent eyes, his gentle face, and say no. I know I’m going to regret this decision, but I’ll worry about that later. I let Happy Ellery win this one.
“Okay, Tom Sawyer.”
25
13 Days
Janie and I decide to watch Better Off Dead after school before the football game. She’s been talking about this movie non-stop since we went to see the Sixteen Candles and The Breakfast Club double feature.
“I didn’t even think about streaming it, that was stupid,” she says, holding up the DVD.
“If it makes you feel better,” I say, shoving a handful of popcorn in my mouth, “I didn’t see it available to stream.”
She hops onto my bed. “That does make me feel better.” She pops the DVD in the player and we settle to watch.
There’s a knock on the door, then my mom peeks in. “You girls need anything else? I don’t see chocolate anywhere.”
I wave Mom in and she plops onto my bed, setting a huge Hershey bar beside the popcorn bowl. She grabs a handful of popcorn. “Is this Better Off Dead?”
Janie laughs. “You wanna watch with us?”
Mom looks at me like she’s asking permission.
I nod and smile at her.
She settles into a spot by the wall and hoards the popcorn while Janie and I snarf the chocolate.
“So what are the kids up to these days?” Mom asks.
“Not a lot. What are the moms up to these days?” I ask.
“Touché.”
Janie laughs. “You guys are hilarious.”
“We’re available on days that end with a Y,” Mom says, laughing.
“It’s not as cool when you laugh at your own jokes.”
“Says the girl who taught me how to do it,” she says, slapping an unsuspecting Janie in a spontaneous high-five.
Janie smiles at my mom and I know that look. The where did you find this one expression.
“All right, you win this rib-off, but only ’cause I want to actually hear what John Cusack is saying.”
“Owned,” Mom says, in her continuing attempt at being the cool mom.
Janie’s right. The movie ends up being pretty funny and although I don’t really identify with Lane, I still like watching him try to kill himself. The fact that Janie wanted to show me this proves she’s more than just a shopping trip in heels, more than just a wavering piece of fabric, more than just a girl. She’s my friend and she cares. Even worse. I care about her.
Shit.
Mom sits up with a groan. “That’s just about enough for me. I’m getting too old to sit like this for too long. I need a nice comfortable recliner and a book.” She scoots down the bed and heads to the door. “Don’t you have a football game tonight?”