Very Bad Things (Briarcrest Academy #1)(53)

I tried to remember where I’d left my shoes, and then I dimly recalled leaving them in Sebastian’s car. “I lost my shoes,” I told her nametag, not wanting to see the pity that must be in her eyes. “Thank you,” I said, taking them from her and slipping them on.

She smiled sweetly and nodded like it happened all the time. I sat there with borrowed flip-flops and ordered my late-night breakfast, intending on savoring every delicious morsel before I went home.

Someone was at home, and I sensed trouble. Whatever was waiting for me in that cold house, I didn’t want to give in and take it like I had before. I wanted to fight.

As I ate, I had a conversation with myself about Leo. I’d laid it all out to him. Again. The roulette ball had landed, and it seemed I was an expert at mastering the art of losing. I’d taken a chance and told him what was in my heart, and he’d rejected me. Again.

About an hour later when I walked through the door at home, Mother was the one who greeted me, an irritated look on her face as she sat at the kitchen table. Her brown hair was bound up in a perfectly loose chignon, and she wore a soft-green bathrobe. It struck me as odd because I hadn’t seen her in night clothes since I was a child. She wasn’t the type to lounge around in comfy clothes, and I tried to picture her in one of my usual garbs: sweats, a hoodie, and my fuzzy multi-colored socks.

Normally, when she was home, we’d have a light dinner that Mona had prepared, we’d sit in the living room and discuss world events for an hour, and then we’d tell each other goodnight. I wouldn’t see her until morning and most times not even then. The station usually sent a car for her around 5:00 a.m., which was before I got up.

There were lots of things in life I didn’t get. How the universe was formed. How bed bugs can totally wipe out a hotel. Why Romeo and Juliet didn’t just talk it out before they offed themselves. Why needy people fish for compliments on Facebook. But, most of all, I didn’t get why my mother hated me. But, then she didn’t hate me, did she? No, I think it was worse; it was indifference.

Seeing her actually home for once, plus up and out of her room, I figured something major had happened. Had Mona found the china?

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Where’s Dad?”

She shook her head at me and said, “Don’t play the innocent act with me. The school called me today to tell me you’d dropped most of your classes!”

“Oh, so that’s why you came home,” I said, hating the let-down I felt because in the back of my mind, I’d wondered if maybe she’d come home for my birthday, albeit a belated one. “Well, that’s old news. Happened last week. I also quit debate and yearbook, too.”

She glared at me. “And, Emma Easton’s mother woke me up at midnight to tell me you started a fight with her daughter, and you know I play tennis with her mother. She’s the President of the Chamber of Commerce, for goodness sakes! How could you?” She waved her hands at my appearance. “You’re an embarrassment to this family, Nora Grace, and I won’t tolerate it. This all started with the incident, and I’m nipping it in the bud once and for all!”

“What do you mean, nipping it in the bud?” I asked, backing away from her. I didn’t want her to hit me. Of course, she’d never use her fists on me because that would leave bruises. But she could slap with the best of them.

She laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “I’m taking your keys and electronics again. You can stay in your room for a week without speaking to anyone. You will eat and shower in your room as well. Mona can drive you to school. There will be no visits to Portia’s. If you reregister for those classes and sign up for debate, however, I’ll let it all go.” She stood gracefully, looking at me with disdain. “Thank God Finn was an easier child than you. You’re the worst . . .”

“Stop!” I yelled. “You can’t talk to me like that!”

She gasped, surprised at my insolence. “Yes, daughter, I can. I am your mother. You’ve humiliated yourself in front of the entire student body, you’re staying out until all hours, you’re getting in fights, you’re wearing God knows what, and oh yes, you’ve dyed your hair that red color. You look like white trash.”

“No, no, no,” I said, “you’re a control freak who expects everyone around you to be perfect! And where’s Dad? Do you even know what girl he’s with? But wait, you don’t even care, do you?”

She looked down at her French manicured nails. “Our relationship is not your business.”

“You’re never here during the week, and I eat alone, Mother. I walk around this big house, feeling invisible. And why haven’t you asked me why I told them all to f*ck off. You don’t ask those questions because you don’t care! You didn’t even call me on my birthday!”

She sneered. “I know why you made a fool of yourself. You did it because you’re ungrateful,” she said, opening the kitchen drawer and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

What was this? She’d never smoked before. I watched her light one with quivering hands. More secrets. We all had so many secrets.

“I knew I never should have let you take that theatre course at the community college. It’s made your tendency toward drama even worse,” she said, exhaling smoke.

“How would you know if I was dramatic?” I yelled at her, my anger escalating. “You know nothing about my life. You don’t even look at me half the time, much less see who I really am!”