The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(7)
“I need to shower. I’m covered in sweat.”
“Okay, well hurry up, okay. Dan asked me to finish up on an urgent account. They need their third quarter paperwork first thing on Monday, so I have to head to the office for a couple of hours. I thought we could eat together before I leave.”
“Okay.” I feel numb as I trudge up to the second floor. Luckily, my room has an en-suite, and I get to shower without Max banging on the door, harassing me. Once I’m dressed, I go back down to the kitchen, where the table is heaving under the weight of all the food Mom’s laid out for us.
“Cute outfit,” she says when she sees me. “Overalls were crazy popular when I was your age, too. Are dreads back yet? I always wanted dreads. Didn’t think I could pull them off. I used to sing in a Bob Marley tribute band. D’you know that?” She belts out the first line of ‘Buffalo Soldier,’ and I smile despite myself. I thank my lucky stars that I have her as a parent most days. She could be an uptight, overbearing, maniacal overlord type, but she’s pretty laid back as it goes. She doesn’t try too hard. She’s not watching me like a hawk twenty-four hours a day, firing out orders and telling me what I can and can’t do. She’s also not constantly trying to be my best friend. She’s just her. She’s just Mom, secure in her role, typically fair and reasonable. But yeah. Also weird.
“You might have mentioned that a couple of times before.” I snake a pancake from the stack in the middle of the table, biting into it, and Mom slaps my hand.
“Neanderthal. Sit down and eat with a knife and fork like a civilized human being. Are you gonna go over to Kacey’s and celebrate today or something?”
I sit. I use my knife and fork as directed. “No. I have a bunch of homework.”
“Do it tomorrow, love. It’s not every day you get into Dartmouth.”
“I didn’t actually get in. I got a ‘likely.’ And you read the letter. If my grades slip, they’ll rescind the offer anyway. I can’t start slacking off now.”
“Silver, one day won’t kill you. I’m sure Kacey’s mom hasn’t drained the pool for winter yet. You should put on a bathing suit and go get some sun this afternoon. You spend way too much time indoors these days. You’re looking a little vampish. You’ll start to glow in the dark if you’re not careful.”
“Gee. Thanks, Mom.” Max isn’t the only Parisi child with a Ph.D. in sarcasm.
“I’m just saying. A little R and R never hurt anybody. It’s good for the soul.”
“Ah, then I’m okay, then. Vampires don’t have souls.”
Mom points her fork at me, talking around a mouthful of food. “That has not been proven. Countless books and movies would have us believe otherwise. Now can you please lighten up a little? I’m trying to live vicariously through you, and you’re making it really boring.” She winks, and I consider hurling a pancake at her.
“Aren’t you going to be late?” I ask, checking with Mickey Mouse. “It’s almost quarter to nine. You aren’t even dressed.”
Her eyes go wide. Scrambling to her feet, she grabs her plate. “Shit! I am. I am so going to be late!”
“Jeez! No swearing, Mom!” Max hollers.
“Sorry, honey!” She flies out of the kitchen, her hair streaming out like a honey gold banner behind her, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
I’m glad the conversation ended when it did. Somehow, Mom hasn’t even noticed that Kacey and I aren’t friends anymore…and I wouldn’t have the faintest clue how to begin explaining that one to her.
3
SILVER
I used to love Monday Mornings. It’s normal to love them when you’re at the top of the socio-economic food chain. Attending high school never felt like a chore, because people worshipped me there. Once upon a time, other students tripped over themselves to make my life as blissful and easy as possible.
“SILVER GEORGINA PARISI, GET YOUR ASS OUT OF YOUR PIT BEFORE I COME UP THERE AND DRAG YOU OUT OF IT MYSELF!”
Now, on a Monday morning, however, I pull the duvet up over my head like every other ordinary student at Raleigh High, and I block out the world, cursing miserably that the weekend isn’t longer. “I’M NOT GOING, DAD!” I holler. “SCHOOL IS FOR LOSERS!”
There’s a thunderous crash in the room below me—Dad’s office—and the sound of a door slamming closed. Then comes the drumbeat of hurried feet charging up the stairs. My bedroom door opens, and I can feel my father standing there, staring at my misshapen, lumpy duvet cocoon. “Don’t you want to be remarkable today, Silver?” he asks.
“I’m remarkable every day. Everyone else’s just too stupid to notice.”
“I know, Kiddo. But the powers that be will fine my ass and take Max away if I don’t enforce a pointless secondary school education on you. So can you do me a solid and take one for the team? Your mom and I really can’t afford to lose Max.”
I throw back the covers, glaring at him. “Wow. I feel really valued. Thanks, Dad.”
He’s leaning against the door jamb, arms folded across his chest, wearing a plaid button-down shirt and the horn-rimmed, round glasses that he thinks make him look like a hipster. His dark hair, touched with grey at his temples is swept back, and…god. I squint at him, trying to decide if my eyes are playing tricks on me. Is he rocking stubble?