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“I guess it’s time we go make some plans for a double date, huh?”
Bo’s lips were curved in a casual smile, but when his eyes met mine, I saw a hint of something worrisome in their depths, something he was trying to bury beneath his carefree expression.
I reached up to grab his hand where he fiddled with my hair. It was cool, where only a few short hours before I’d been able to feel intense heat.
“Tell me everything is going to be fine,” I requested, knowing that it was impossible for him to guarantee such a thing, especially considering that he was dying.
“I’ll make it as fine as I can,” he replied.
“You’re cold, Bo. Didn’t you get…something to eat before school?”
“Yeah.”
I wondered if worry or fear would burn through the blood he drank more quickly, like he said excitement would. I wanted to ask, but I didn’t think I needed to. Something in his eyes told me that it did, and that he was much more concerned than he was willing to admit. He obviously didn’t want me to know just how bad it was, so for his benefit, I stood to my feet and plastered a bright smile on my face.
“Then let’s go make a date.”
********
The weird parts of my day had apparently only just begun. Since I’d so publicly challenged Trinity, she hadn’t really made as much of a stink as I’d suspected she would. The locker thing was a mild stunt, something that only brushed the surface of Trinity’s deep and disturbing repertoire of vengeful schemes. Each day, especially when it came to cheerleading, I wondered when she’d make her move and how bad it was going to be.
Today, however, she threw me for a loop. She arrived at practice late, which wasn’t unusual for Trinity, but she was all smiles, something that I hadn’t seen much of since the incident.
I ignored her for the most part, the same as I’d done since I’d stood up to her. No sense waking up that sleeping dog any sooner than was absolutely necessary. The strange thing was that she responded to me cheerfully when I asked her to change position or straighten her arm or…well anything really. Her smile was wide and seemed genuine, but it was her eyes that concerned me. There was a gleam in them, a malevolent twinkle that made me extremely uncomfortable. It seemed as though she was laughing at me, like she’d made the final plans for her revenge and she was overflowing with the juiciness of it.
The thing I worried about most was whether or not her plotting, her ultimate revenge, now involved Lars.
Bo wasn’t at my car when practice was over, which disappointed me more than I cared to admit. I scolded myself for wanting to spend every waking minute with him, for expecting him to feel the same way, but it had virtually no effect. I still felt deflated and depressed by the time I got home.
Those feelings were quickly forgotten, however, when I pulled into the driveway and parked behind Mom’s car. I glanced at the dashboard clock. It was 5:45. Mom was never home before 10:00 unless Dad was there. Never. She always had some serious drinking to do after work and that took time.
The gloom of a dark, ominous cloud pressed down on my shoulders like a physical weight, making my feet feel like they were shod in concrete shoes. With each step, it seemed an effort to drag them forward, on toward the front door.
Carefully, cautiously, I raised my key to the lock, but the door flew open before I could even push it into the slot. Mom stood there, all smiles and sparklingly clear eyes.
“I’m so glad you’re home!” Both her face and her voice were animated and strangely excited. She stepped forward to throw her arms around my neck in a hug that would’ve staggered a grown man.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” She pulled back to look at me. “Nothing’s wrong, Ridley. Why would you ask such a question?”
I wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. I thought about saying something like Because you’re usually at O’Mally’s getting three sheets to the wind by now, but that probably would have been neither advisable nor appropriate.
“No reason,” I answered, deciding on a strategy of evasion. Pretense and light deceit had worked well in our house for years. Why stop now?
I smiled, moving past her into the foyer.
“The chicken smells great,” I commented, breathing in the savory smell of meat.
“I haven’t even started cooking yet. How can you smell it?” She asked this as she took the duffel strap off my shoulder. “Here, let me take this to your room while you go wash up.” She walked my bag down the hall, calling over her shoulder, “You can help me with dinner.”
I just stood there, mouth agape, watching the person who looked like my mother walk my bag back to my room.
When she reemerged, she looped her arm through mine and pulled me toward the kitchen, like two best friends at summer camp.
“I’m fixing chicken spaghetti, garlic bread with parmesan cheese, salad, and key lime pie for dessert. How does that sound?”
She deposited me in front of the sink while she went to the refrigerator for supplies.
“All that just for two?” I lathered my hands beneath the warm water.
“We might have company,” she announced.
“Who?”
“Your friend from school.”
“Which one?” She didn’t have to know that the list was much, much shorter than it used to be.
“Lars.”
I could barely think over the shrill scream of Def Con Five sirens going off inside my head. Hands dripping and eyes narrowed suspiciously, I turned toward Mom. “Lars? How do you know about Lars?”
“You don’t have to play dumb, Ridley. I know all about him. He stopped by while you were at practice and you know what?” She turned around to look at me. “I really like him.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. Lars had been in my house, alone with my mother.
“What were you doing here, Mom? Don’t you usually work late?” That’s what she called getting her drunk on—“working late.”
Mom wrinkled her brow. “Hmm,” she said, slightly dazed. “I can’t remember why I came home early, but I did.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I really like him.”
