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“Do not start with me, Aveena. I just called one of Ashley’s cast mates, since rehearsal was supposed to end hours ago. Turns out there was never a play rehearsal scheduled tonight.”
Busted.
“Have you tried calling her?”
“What do you think?” she yells. “I put a tracker on her phone last week, and you know where it led me tonight? To the Richards’ house. On a Saturday night. I’m not stupid, Aveena. I’m well aware of what kids like to do on Saturday nights, and I know your trollop friend Diamond is seeing this Richards kid. I was willing to turn a blind eye when you asked for nights out, but you’re completely out of control! I can’t believe you’d coerce your underage sister into getting drunk at some party!”
Of course she’d assume it’s my fault.
God forbid Ashley actually made her own decisions.
“What? I wouldn’t do that. She came all on her own. I tried to get her to leave, but I lost her in the crowd and now I can’t find her.”
“And you expect me to believe that?” A bitter laugh echoes down the line. “My Ashley would never be so reckless. She’d never mix with…” She pauses. “Your kind of people.”
My kind of people?
Call us peasants, why don’t you?
“Well, maybe you don’t know your precious Ashley as well as you think you do.” I erupt, shocked by my own audacity. This night has been a killer headache, and my bullshit meter is nearing its limit.
“Aveena Harper D’Amour, are you talking back at me?” Mom cranks the yelling up five notches, and I flinch, driving the phone away from my ear. I’m this close to losing my temper and going crazy town on her when I remember I have an audience.
“No, of course not.” I exhale a gusty breath. “I’m just saying I had nothing to do with it. She’s seventeen, Mom. I can’t control what she does all the time.”
“You have thirty minutes to find your sister and get her home. If you’re even one minute late, I’m calling the police on this drugfest for underage drinking, am I making myself clear?” She spits out empty threats. Well, I hope they’re empty.
“Yes, ma’am.” I grumble and end the call before squeezing my phone in my jeans pocket.
Then comes the moment I dreaded the most. The moment where Xav and I finish a conversation I’m not prepared for.
I swivel to face him, my cheeks tinted with shame. My backstabbing crush just witnessed my mom chewing my head off over the phone. No big deal. If I thought he seemed shocked before, I was wayoff. This was nothing compared to the way he’s looking at me now.His jaw goes slack, his mouth hanging open as he stares down my face, eerily quiet.
He looks like he’s seen a ghost.
“Sorry you had to hear that.” I shuffle my feet, playing with my fingers nervously. A million emotions blend together in his eyes, but his lips remain sealed. He looks like he’s processing something. Assembling pieces of a puzzle he was never able to complete.
Until now.
“Anyway.” I clear my throat. “I-I should get going.”
He still doesn’t make a sound, dissecting my every move as I speed-walk to the door, but right as I’m about to make a run for it, he does the last thing I expected.
He laughs.
It’s a chest laugh.
Deep, and raw, and real. But don’t think I miss the bitterness bubbling beneath the surface.
“I’m so fucking stupid,” he mutters to himself, so quietly I almost don’t hear him. I’m tempted to pretend I didn’t catch that and haul ass out of there, but something tells me he wouldn’t let me go that easy.
What he says next proves me right.
“It’s you.”
He said it to my back, but it paralyzes me from head to toes.
“Of course it’s you.” He scoffs. “Jesus, Xav, be slower, will you?”
