Jackson doesn’t answer—maybe he didn’t actually say anything—but he reaches out a hand for my phone to enter his address. It’s the complete opposite direction from where I live, so I’ll be getting home later than I expected.
As we pull out of the school parking lot, I’m sure Jackson says something this time.
“What was that?” I ask, turning to face him.
“Watch the road!”
I stare ahead. “I didn’t veer at all;relax.”
Whatever it is that he said, I’ll never know, which is beyond irritating. He doesn’t try talking again for the rest of the twenty-minute drive.
There’s a giant fountain at the front of his neighborhood. The huge houses are spaced far apart, and each one seems to have three- or four-car garages. The sprawling front lawns are bright green. Many properties have gates that require keycodes to access.
Dang, Jackson lives in therichpart of town. If I’d had to guess, I would’ve assumed his family was well-off, but this is next level.
“You can just park here,” Jackson says as we approach the gate to his house. As soon as I stop the car, he pushes the door open.
“Wait,” I say, jumping out to follow him before he goes through the walkway entrance. “Can I just…”
“What now,Ellie?” Jackson turns slowly. There’s so much exasperation in the way he says my name. If only the ground could swallow me whole.
I wring my fingers together. “I know none of this went as we might’ve hoped. But thanks for inviting me.”
He shrugs, avoiding my eyes.
“Maybe some other time we could—”
Without letting me finish, Jackson answers, “Maybe.” He walks away.
I beat myself up over it the entire drive home. Why did the game have to be against Cody’s school? Why did I have to look down at the field? Why did Jackson have to notice me doing that?
My mom must’ve heard me park the car on the street in front of our house because she’s waiting for me at the door, arms crossed. She mutters something.
“What?” I ask, not really caring.
Louder, she repeats, “You arenotallowed to take off for an entire night.”
“It was a school thing.” Seriously, why is she so mad about this? “I told Dad I was going.”
This doesn’t appease her at all. “Right, youtoldhim and left. But you should’ve asked us beforehand.”
“We got it all cleared up over text. I’m back now.” I roll my eyes and continue toward my bedroom, but she stands between me and the stairs.
“While you live here, you need our permission.”
I don’t care about this. Why are they trying to act like I’m a little kid? Just because I’m living at home now doesn’t mean we’ve gone back in time.
I walk around her up to my room, where I turn and shout a parting shot down to her before closing the door. “I haven’t needed your permission for a long time. You can’t expect me to follow rules you’ve never put in place. You thought I was plenty responsible when I went away to school. Since I’ve been home, the only thing you’ve done is hold me back.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Jackson
Waking up Sundaymorning, I still feel like shit. Somehow worse than I felt yesterday. The metaphorical truck didn’t just hit me. It smashed me into the pavement.
Mom lets me sleep in but comes to check on me each hour with offerings I didn’t ask for. “Jackson, are you feeling all right? Here’s a glass of ice water.” “Actually, I thought some orange juice would do you good.” “Dried mango, since you’ve missed breakfast and now it’s lunchtime.” Until finally, it’s two o’clock and she thinks I need to move. “Let’s go sit down on the couch, okay?”
I literally drag my legs out of bed, thumping heavily down the stairs as I clutch the railing. The dizziness won’t quit, and I’m certain now that something weird is going on with my right eye. I can see out of it, but also, I can’t. There’s a pressure behind it, and my vision is dark and hazy. What the hell is causing that?
