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“Malcolm replaced your easel? He didn’t mention it.”
Panic sets in. “Oh. Um…”
Momma moves past me to analyze the wooden parts on the carpet. “This looks expensive.”
I decide to come out with it. “Actually, it’s a gift from a friend.”
“A gift?” She regards the pieces again. “I’m sure this is that hella expensive one.” She slants to me, hands on her hips. “Which friend, Kayla?”
“From the academy.” I pick at my shorts and gnaw at my bottom lip.
Growing suspicious, Momma angles her head. “A girl you just befriended spent one thousand three hundred dollars on an easel for you?”
“It’s a guy,” I admit.
“Excuse me?” Her eyes widen. “And what does this boy want in return?”
“It’s not like that, Momma.” Well, according to Brandon, I’m his. We just won’t touch.
She clicks her tongue. “Listen, I need to get to the hospital.” Giving me a warning gaze, she adds, “Don’t even put the easel together. We’ll discuss this later.”
I don’t argue. I know better.
Momma releases a razor-sharp sigh before walking out of my room.
Sadness buds in my chest as I look at the parts on the carpet. My heart wants the gift, and it’s not only because I’ve longed for this particular easel, but it’s from Brandon. Though I can’t make sense of it, that means something to me.
