Mom scans the room and I know what she sees: empty.
The bunk beds pressed into the corner are waiting for daughters who will probably never return for longer than a one-night visit. With Nora and Clara gone, the walls are barren except for the thousands of pushpin holes put there by my sisters in the blue paint. I could add my personality to the room, but it seems useless. As soon as I graduate, I’ll join the ranks of gone.
Mom sits on the edge of my bed and her forehead wrinkles as she notices the clutter. “What’s this?”
I gather up the papers and stuff them into my backpack. “Schoolwork. How’s Elsie?”
I should ask how Clara is, but I won’t. Liam told me Clara is having a rough time transitioning into her new environment, but he thinks she will graduate. Maybe she will. Maybe she won’t. I have to be honest, after being abandoned on the side of the road, I don’t have it in me to care.
“She’ll be fine. I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk—just the two of us—since I’ve been home. Your father said you did a fantastic job taking care of everyone while I was gone. Thank you.”
Not like Dad would know how things went. He was on the road more than he was home, but no one perished, nor was anyone physically scarred for life. It’s too early to judge the mental repercussions of me being in charge for two weeks.
Mom reaches over and curls over the ends of my hair as if that will give the straight locks some life. “I’m proud of you. Not just for stepping up when I was gone, but in everything you do. Your dad’s proud, too. He told me you’re living proof we did something right.”
I flinch as if she’s shoving a pickax into my chest.
“So...” Mom grins. It’s forced and it’s more tired than cheerful and it causes fear to tiptoe through my stomach. She’s not here because she was passing by my room. She’s here because she’s smelled blood. “I’m late, but as promised, I’m all yours.”
It’s impossible to meet my mother’s gaze. If only she’d said those words over a month ago maybe everything would be different.
Mom returned two weeks after Kyle began blackmailing me, and the moment she strolled in the door, Zac vomited. Paul and Elsie weren’t too far behind. Mom seemed to have forgotten her promise of being “all mine,” but I was okay with that. Kids puking trumps kid not puking.
Guess I could tell her, but instead of Mom just being disappointed in me for going to Shamrock’s and my time spent with Razor of the Reign of Terror, I’d also have to explain how I’m days away from writing a paper for Kyle. This is a grave I can’t seem to stop digging.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asks.
That I’m a failure. “Nothing.”
“It was something, and I know I didn’t handle things well when you came to me.” The way she speaks, it’s like she’s coaxing a spooked kitten from behind a couch. Too kind. Too understanding. She can’t even imagine the damage I’ve sustained. “I can’t change the past, but I’m here now. Talk to me, Bre.”
I wish I could. I wish I hadn’t been swept up in this storm, but I have and there’s no turning back. “There was some stuff, but it worked out and I’m okay now.”
Mom’s silent and the lack of response from her creates a heaviness in my chest that causes breathing to be a labor.
“Liam visited me this evening to talk about you. He told me about Thomas Turner.”
My bones practically jump out of my skin. “What?”
I expect wrath to be pouring out of my mother’s eyes, but instead I discover sympathy. She places her hand over mine. “Liam hung out with some old friends on Friday night.”
Meaning Liam hung out with people I go to school with. He was on the football team in high school and he still attends the games to cheer on his home team. My head falls back. Translation: Liam chatted with Kyle.
“Liam heard from a friend that Thomas Turner is in some of your classes this year. He also heard there were some rumors going around about you and Thomas at the beginning of the year. Liam put two and two together and realized that was what you were upset about the day I left. He feels bad for how we treated you and I feel worse.”
Blood drains from my face and I’m sorting through the possibilities of what she heard, but I keep landing on the same spot: Mom heard about the rumor floating around school. The one that says that Razor tried to ask me out. Because if she heard Razor and I were body to body at Shamrock’s or that we’re dating/not dating, she’s handling the idea of me lying to her way too well. It also means Kyle is throwing out a reminder to me to stay in line.
“What did Liam say?” I ask.
“Nothing I believe. Nothing Liam believes.” Mom squeezes my hand and she inhales a quivering breath. “Liam told me what happened the night he picked you up from orientation. About how you were alone with Thomas, and then he told me about the rumors going on at school...”
“What rumors?” It’s odd how distant I sound. Like I’m stuck in a tunnel. Even odder is how I’ve become detached—from my body, from my mind.
“That Thomas Turner was bothering you at school and that people were jumping to wrong conclusions. He also said Kyle Hewitt got into a fight with Thomas in order to protect you.”
I’m not sure if I’m in shock or if I’m relieved.
“Please talk to me,” she begs. “The Terror have their own way of living and it can be frightening. I want to make sure you’re okay. I want to be here for you. Liam’s scared something more happened the night of orientation. He’s feeling a lot of regret and...so am I.”