Rush: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 1)(9)

Busting my buddy’s balls would be so easy right now. Rather than jump on the opportunity, I nod as though I understand. I don’t. I seriously want to interrogate Spencer in an effort to find out more about what they’re going to talk about, but I know that wasn’t the reason he stopped by. Had this Amber chick not been there, I doubt Spencer would’ve told me a damn thing.

I figure it’s time to get the subject back to Spencer. “Did you talk to her? This Amber girl?”

Spencer shakes his head, then lifts his bottle to his mouth. “No, but I think she wanted to.” He takes a long drink. “I bolted as soon as Phoenix said he was done. She tried to stop me, but I blew her off. I didn’t know what the hell to say to her.”

“You going to give her a chance to explain?” Personally, I don’t think he should so much as look her way, but what the hell do I know? I am damn sure not in a position to give relationship advice. To anyone.

“Actually, I think I’m gonna do what I’ve been doing all this time.”

“Which is?”

His smile is mischievous once again. “I’m gonna pretend she doesn’t exist.”

“Sounds good in theory, bro.”

But we all know how that shit usually ends.

Probably a lot like this conversation.

Quickly and without resolution.





Bianca

One, two, three…

Four, five, six…

While I wait for Gabby to text me back, I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling. It’s still covered with those little glow-in-the-dark stars my mom put up when I was seven. Right after Grandma and Grandpa died. She did it so I wouldn’t be sad anymore. It didn’t work, but I never told her that. They don’t glow much anymore, but they’re still cool to look at sometimes. I always find myself counting the big ones. One time I got to sixty-one before Gabby finally texted me back.

Seven, eight, nine, ten…

I should be asleep, not only because I’m tired but also because Mom likes for me to go to bed by eleven on the weekends, nine thirty on school nights. Sometimes I do, but most of the time Gabby and I text until I can’t keep my eyes open. Tonight, we’ve been going back and forth for at least an hour now.

My mom’s at work, but I know she’ll be coming home to check on me at some point. She’s already come by twice and will probably be by at least two more times. She does it randomly, and never in any sort of pattern that I can easily figure out. I think that’s the point. She trusts me, but only to a certain degree.

I guess most parents are that way. Although, my mom is probably cooler than most. I know Gabby’s mom wouldn’t let her stay at home by herself at night. Not even if she worked only a couple of minutes away. But my mom is definitely cool like that.

My phone vibrates.

Gabby: So she wasn’t mad about your hair?

Bianca: Not about the color, no. She was more upset that I didn’t ask her first.

That was the part that shocked me.

I knew last night when I decided to put the pink streak in my hair that my mom was going to be upset. I didn’t realize she was going to be more upset that I didn’t ask, though.

I was surprised she didn’t say something this morning, and I think that made it worse than if she would’ve yelled at me. I thought about it all day while I was at school. Even during English when I was sitting next to Joseph Barker—the cutest boy in the whole school. Sometimes I think he likes me, but other times I think he wants to be friends because he knows that Optimus, the captain of the Austin Arrows, is my uncle. I’m pretty popular because of that.

The pink hair was a big hit, too. A couple of girls said I wouldn’t do it, but I showed them. It wasn’t that hard once I figured it out. The worst part was having to bleach the strand of hair before I could color it. It smelled awful and it felt like it took forever. The biggest problem was getting the color off the sink so my mom wouldn’t know. I kind of expected her to be angry that I did it at all, but she didn’t seem too mad this morning. Still, I worked myself up all day only to have her bring it up so calmly in the car. I wonder if parents plan it that way.

Gabby: What about the other thing? Did you tell her yet?

Bianca: No. I’m not sure I will, either.

Gabby: Don’t you think she’ll be mad when she finds out?

Bianca: Probably, but I don’t plan for her to find out.

Gabby’s referring to the new Facebook profile I created. My mom let me have a Facebook account last year, but she monitors it. She’s nice enough not to comment, but she friends me on all of my accounts, so I know she sees everything I do and say. Sometimes she even logs in so she can see the notifications and messages. She tells me that she doesn’t let me go out in the world without supervision and she’s not going to unleash me on the Internet without supervision. I kind of get it even though it feels like an invasion of privacy. I told her that once, and she said, “Bianca, you’re twelve. You don’t get to have privacy.”

Since I don’t want her to know about what I’m planning to do, I had to create a new account. I heard Joseph say he has two accounts and his parents don’t know about the second one. That’s how I got the idea, anyway.

Gabby: Did you block everybody?

Bianca: Everyone I can think of, yeah.

Because I don’t want my mom to find the account, I used a fake name—Belle, which is part of my first name and my middle name—and blocked everyone that I know, including my mom, Uncle Optimus, Gabby. Even myself. That way no one can find it.