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Brandon sat on the armchair, pushing down the footrest. He leaned forward and said, “You kids have something to tell me?”
Millie and I glanced at each other, and she cleared her throat. “I’m afraid it’s my fault,” she said, and she told Brandon about the article for the school newspaper. “I asked Addison, the web editor to approve it, and then I was going to show it to Taylor before it got printed, but Addison went ahead and uploaded it without showing me.” Millie took in a wavering breath. “She made a derogatory comment about where Taylor lives and made it look like I’d written it.”
Brandon’s frown deepened and with Millie on the brink of tears, I jumped in.
“Addison made fun of Taylor for living in River Valley and not in Covington, and she posted a photo of the house,” I said. “But it’s been taken down now, right Millie?”
“Yes, I told Mr. Harmon about it, and he took it down,” Millie confirmed.
Brandon’s lips pressed together tightly. “Is that a thing? Living in River Valley is a bad thing?” He seemed genuinely confounded.
Millie and I looked at each other, both of us nodding. “Yes sir,” I said. “To some people, it is.” Shame engulfed me as I said it, but it was true. There was a high and mighty attitude amongst those in Covington Heights—of course not everyone—but superiority was a thing for many who lived in the posh mansions on the hill.
I had prided myself in not having that ignorant attitude, because my family had once lived in River Valley. Mom and Dad started flipping houses in River Valley twenty years ago, and through a lot of hard work and smart business decisions were at the point where they now owned several successful companies and lived in a million dollar house with envious river views. In Covington Heights.
There was a long standing rivalry, too, between the students of Covington Prep and River Valley High. We called them Arvees, after RV High; they called us Stripers because of our maroon and yellow striped blazers. Over recent years, this had waned because the things Covington Prep valued—golf, tennis, lacrosse—barely registered with River Valley High. Their favored sports were football, basketball and volleyball.
Ironically, Whittakers Ice Cream which made the town famous, was on the River Valley side of town, as was Peter’s Ice Cream Shoppe, the most popular cafe. And it was as popular with Covington Prep kids as it was with the RV High students.
I guess it means that everyone loves ice cream, no matter where you live.
“So you think Taylor was upset over this?” Brandon asked, his tone curious rather than distressed.
Millie and I nodded. “I texted her to say I was sorry about the article,” Millie said, “and I explained that I wasn’t responsible, but she—” Millie turned to me with the eyes of a reluctant traitor, “but she believed it was Max who turned on her.”
“I’m the only one who knows where she lives,” I admitted.
Brandon whooshed out a breath, mulling over the situation. “Okay. So my Tay is being bullied over where she lives, and she thinks Max has ratted on her because Max is the lawn boy who knows where she lives? And Millie is the co-conspirator who wrote about it?” He shook his head and ruffled his hair. “But it was really Addison, the girl who swapped out her skirt?”
“That’s right, I’d forgotten about the skirt,” I said, quickly recalling the incident for Millie who was frowning. Looking back at Brandon, I said, “I need to explain everything to her. I mean, I don’t know how Addison got hold of the information, but I need her to know I would never do anything like that.”
“So do I,” Millie agreed. “I mean, most kids at school are great, but unfortunately there are a few...mean kids.”
Brandon fumbled down the side of his armchair, eventually finding his phone. He started to type in a slow one-finger manner. I glanced across the room at the photo frames. I wanted to get a closer look at them. One was a young Taylor holding a trophy, but one looked like a family photo. I wondered if it was her mother.
Brandon’s phone pinged. “Tay’s okay,” he said, raising his eyebrows as he texted more.
Millie sighed. “Thank goodness.”
“Well, I appreciate you kids coming over,” Brandon said, our cue to leave. “And letting me know what’s been going on.”
I nodded, not quite satisfied with the outcome. Brandon knew the story but I needed to tell Taylor directly.
Millie was lingering by the sideboard, admiring the trophies and photos. “So many trophies!” she said. I joined her, immediately drawn to the family photo of Taylor, Brandon and a lady in a cap. You could see she had no hair under it.
Sensing Brandon’s body behind me, I said, “Is that—” But out of nowhere, my throat tightened and tears clouded my vision. The next two words squeaked out, “Taylor’s mom?”
A hand gently rested on my shoulder. “Uh huh,” Brandon murmured.
“I heard...” I paused, not sure how to say it.She diedseemed too direct, too blunt, too explicit, but what was the alternative? I tried again. “Bianca said Taylor told her that her mom had—”
And still I couldn’t finish the sentence, that word too hard, that notion too hard.
Brandon’s fingers gripped and now his voice was strangulated. “She passed away in April, after a long fight with cancer.”
Millie drew in a sharp breath, while my jaw and cheeks twitched, emotion building. I fought to hold it in, biting down on my lower lip. The thought of Taylor’s mom dying filled me with a grief I didn’t understand. My heart ached for her, a relentless pounding in my chest like it was imprisoned within my rib cage with no space or air.
“I’m sorry,” Millie whispered and the silence draped us for a heavy moment.
