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Her normally put-together French braid is messy with strands falling around her face. Her mascara is running down her cheeks, and pink lipstick is smeared on her chin. Purple decorates her cheek. It’s the bloody cut on her lip though, that has me clutching my hands to my chest. Her blouse is torn and red marks decorate her bare chest.
“Oh honey.” She opens the door and pulls my body into hers. Hugging me close, comforting me. Embarrassment floods my chest. I can’t believe I’m crying when something clearly happened to my mom.
“What happened?” I manage to say, my voice coming out as a croak.
My mom pulls back, her fingers wiping my tears and running over my hair. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay, Jade. I had to quit at the bank though. I’ll try and pick up more hours at the diner, but honey, I don’t know if I’ll make your dance bill next month.”
Tears fill her eyes again and my chest squeezes. My mom looks like she was attacked; she's bleeding, her knees and her pants are dirty and all she is worried about is me and making sure I can still dance. I feel small. There is nothing I can do to help her.
I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it, Mom. I can always take a break for a bit. Maybe consider the school team or something.”
Her tears spill over, while I try and comfort her. Nothing I could say right now will make her feel any better. My arms wrap around her waist. I fight to breathe, to calm myself and think only of her. What if it had been worse? Is it over? Will it happen again?
“Who did this?”
“Jade,” she squeezes me tighter, “it’s between adults. You don’t worry about me. I’m okay. It’s going to be okay.”
She’s picking up more hours at the diner. She said she had to leave her job at the bank, the place she worked with Jackson’s father…his father who just was found to be having an affair with a different secretary. The reason Jackson was so mad at me. The reason I was almost attacked. It can’t be related, can it?
I let go of my mom and she ushers me out of the bathroom before locking the door. I slip back into my room and lie in bed, watching the clock. The shower turns on but even that doesn’t muffle her sobs. I can see the steam under the door, the water must be scorching hot. She loses track of how long she’s in there. Not me. I watch the clock tick away thirty minutes, forty-five minutes, and hour. She still cries while I lie in the darkness, clasping my blankets to my chest and shaking. Someone attacked my mom. I’m not too young to know what the marks on her chest were or why her lipstick was smudged. I think back to Jackson and Chase in the field. It could have been me. Itwasmy mom. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay if she was attacked because of me.
ChapterThree
Jade
15 years old
“Ooohh. He got another penalty. I didn’t know you could get this many in basketball of all things,” Harper practically cackles from where she’s sitting next to me in the stands of the high school gymnasium. “Aren’t you going to watch?”
I roll my eyes, not that she can see, and glance up from the book I’ve been reading. Sure enough, Corey is standing toe-to-toe with a player on the other team. That would make this his fourth foul of the game and I’m surprised he hasn’t been ejected yet. “He’s fine. And it’s called a foul not a penalty. We aren’t playing hockey.”
“I don’t care what they call it. And, he’s not fine. He keeps getting aggressive every time the other team says one thing to him.”
“Maybe they shouldn’t be saying what they’re saying.” My shoulders shrug and she looks at me ridiculously.
“Not that we can hear what it is.” She huffs and slouches down against our seats. Our backrow seats.
I snicker, knowing full well Harper would rather be front and center in the action, but I refuse. It’s enough that I’m here, in the same vicinity as the team, and paying attention…sort of. “We’re fine here. He can see us, that’s all that matters.”
Harper’s eyes slide over me. “See you, you mean. Corey doesn’t care if I’m here as long as his best friend is.”
The way she says ‘best friend’ makes me chuckle lightly. Harper and Corey are forever giving me grief about who is in the number one spot for my affection. Thankfully, I can say I have one best friend that's a girl and one best friend that is a guy. Being best friends with the king of the school is an anomaly, being a girl and his best friend is unheard of. By now, everyone assumes we are sleeping together. Girls only want to be my friend to use me to get to Corey. Despite that we’re now in high school, it’s just like middle school, and suddenly, it was as if guys in the school couldn’t look me in the eye anymore. Corey’s protection of me was known all over school. He never stopped walking me anywhere after school. Not only did I get used to it, I learned to lean on him. After that night my mom was attacked, I realized just how bad the world could be, even here in our small town. I learned how some guys can’t take no for an answer. My mom didn’t have anyone to protect her like I did.
Then there was Harper. Harper was new last year and we hit it off right away. Mostly because she wasn’t a bitch to me about my relationship with Corey. She also didn’t want him in any way sexually. Harper was waiting for her childhood crush to come back from studying abroad, and no one could sway her mind.
The ref’s whistle blows again, and this time, I glance up right as a player from the other team takes a swing at Corey. I’m on my feet in a second, my eyes following my golden-god best friend. His eyes are narrowed at the player, a fuck-around-and-find-out smirk playing on his lips. Whatever happened, I know Corey goaded the guy into swinging at him. The ref makes a motion with his hands and the other player is forced to leave the gym. Booing from their bench gets mixed in with the cheering from our student section. I glance at the clock and see that our team is already winning 56-43. Whatever that player did to piss off Corey must have been bad. My eyes connect with my best friend’s from across the court and I see the icy blue color darken. He dips his head in my direction and I shake my head smiling. Yeah, there’s a story there.
The rest of the game proceeds with their team attempting cheap shots at our guys and our team out playing them every minute. When the scoreboard buzzes for the last time, the noise in the gym is deafening. Harper jumps to her feet, cheering loudly, waving her hands. My heart jumps in my chest and my eyes move from the board to the huddle of players in the center of the court. 78-50. It was a good game. I stand and shove my kindle into my backpack before following Harper into the aisle of the bleachers.
“Are we heading down?” she asks me, her steps bouncing with excitement.
“Sure.” I manage to shrug, even as my social anxiety barometer jumps up. I don’t like being in social situations, especially not at school functions. I already have too much negative attention on me, and even though I try to ignore it, that isn’t always possible.
The minute my shoes touch the floor, I’m scooped up by one of the guys on our team and moved through the crowd until I reach Corey. He slips his arm around my shoulders and leans in. “Thanks for being here.”
I glance up at his sweaty hair and the red tint to his cheeks from working so hard. My cheeks flush with color and I nod at him, biting my lip. “You played good.”
“Liar, you barely looked up from your book,” he snarks at me and I laugh.
