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“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispers.
Alana returns with a casserole big enough to feed a family of ten and sets it on the table between us before taking her seat.
“I hope you’re hungry.” She grins at both of us.
Neither Kailani or I speak, so her mother dishes up our meal and tells us about how she filled care packages for impoverished children. When she’s finished with that topic, she maneuvers to another. Something about Theo’s son, Miles, hopefully coming home for Christmas this year. I’ve seen him around a few times when he’s on leave from the military, but I don’t know him well enough to add anything to the conversation. I eat two helpings of the chicken and rice, and Kail shoves her food around her plate, opting for only a few small bites while her mother watches in disapproval.
“Wait until you see what I made for dessert.” Alana pushes to her feet, desperate for her daughter to eat something.
“I’m full.” Kailani grabs her plate and takes it into the kitchen, dumping the remnants into the trash.
Her mother watches with a hollow expression, and I listen to them argue about Kail’s eating habits for the next five minutes before she orders her daughter to be polite and join me at the dining table. She complies with a scowl on her face, and my amusement doesn’t improve her sour mood.
“You shouldn’t be such a brat to her,” I remark. “She wants you to be healthy. That’s what mothers are supposed to do.”
“Don’t you have your own family you can bother?” she snaps.
The smug satisfaction slips from my face as I force my gaze just over her head. I should be used to this question by now, but the truth is, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.
“Tell your mom I said thanks for dinner.” I shove my chair back.
Kail calls after me as I walk away, but I’m already gone.10KailaniIt’s the end of the week, and we’re supposed to be prepping for Saturday’s game, but I’m a walking zombie. I haven’t slept well at all since the party at Alistor’s house. Jared is gone, and Audrey is rumored to be sick, but that doesn’t seem likely. The icing on top of this shitty cake is that Landon refuses to acknowledge me since our spat at the dinner table. When he sees me in the halls, he just walks on by. No smart-ass remarks, or cold stares, or his trademark asshole grin. Nothing. It’s exactly what I told him I wanted, so I don’t know why it bothers me so much.
I’m not proud of the fact that I spent the bulk of my study time this week turning over every internet stone I could to uncover information about his family. The only thing I managed to learn is that whoever his father might be, it isn’t public knowledge. As for his mother, well, she’s just an unrecognizable face from the paparazzi photos. I’ve never seen her around Black Mountain, which is weird. When I tutored him at his house, he always told me she was out, but you would think at some point I would have seen her coming or going. I’m dying to ask my mom if she’s ever seen her, but I don’t want to give her the wrong idea, and things are still too tense between us.
I’m exhausted and irritable, and it only adds to my frustration when I open my locker to find that someone has left me a treat every day this week. First, it was a box of chocolates. Then it was macadamia nuts, my favorite. One day, it was almond croissants from the local specialty bakery. After that, I stopped looking at the labels and immediately threw the boxes in the rubbish can, convinced they were probably poisoned if it was from anyone around here.
At first, I suspected my mom, but she never comes to the school. She also doesn’t know my combination. Someone here does, though. That’s been obvious for a while now. In either case, it’s making me stabby, and I wish everyone would just lay off and leave me alone.
When Courtney approaches me at lunch, I have an awful feeling things are only going to get worse. I’ve been doing my best to avoid her all week, running off as soon as practice ends and pretending to study during breaks. But the determination on her face when she sits down across from me and tugs out my headphones says it all.
“What is going on with you?” she demands.
“What do you mean?” I fidget with the tab on my La Croix can.
“Don’t play dumb, Kail.” She glares. “You look terrible. And you’re acting all cagey—”
“I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
My stomach rumbles as I concentrate on the plate of food in front of me. I can’t remember how many bites I’ve taken because my head feels like it’s full of cotton wool.
