“So you see I don’t really give a fuck what any of them do to me anymore. I’ve got my guy. I’ve got my film program and I’m out of here next month forever.”
He doesn’t laugh. He frowns instead. “If that’s how you feel, how come you’re in OCD again? Why not just let Natasha’s bullshit roll off your back? I know all the ink about your family sucks for you but it’s all bullshit so why can’t you ignore it?”
“I know that the shit in the tabloids about Mom and Alan is just that. Shit. Nothing new, Bobby. I’ve been reading crud about Alan, crud about Mom, crud about my family in print as long as I can remember. I’m surprised there isn’t an article in the rag sheets claiming Chrissie had sex with a Martian and all five of us kids are green aliens. So stupid, I’ve lived this movie before and it’s no big deal. That part of it I do ignore.”
He studies my face. “OK, then how come you keep ending up in OCD? This is your ninth time in April alone.”
“If I had known Natasha could be such a malicious bitch I would have never called her a ‘twat’ the first month of school. She’s positively relentless like those monsters that die in horror films but keep on coming back. I don’t care what she does to me, she knows it, so now she’s bullying Zoe and no way am I backing down with that crap going on.”
His jaw drops. “You’ve got to be kidding me?”
I stare up at him. “Nope. And don’t tell Jake. Zoe doesn’t want anyone to know. She’s so embarrassed. They stuff Zoe’s locker with little notes about Jake and photoshopped pictures of her that are just awful. I know it was them. They’ve been posting some really cruel things on their pages. Harassing her in group texts. They are all-out cyberbullying her just because she’s my friend. Zoe pretends it doesn’t bother her, but she’s a mess over this. They’re hideous girls. Somehow they never get into trouble for any of it. How do you ignore girls like that? I can’t. Zoe’s my best friend.”
“Do you want me to stay at OCD with you?”
I brighten. “You’d really do that?”
“Yep. I’d do anything for you.” He brushes aside my hair and starts kissing me on the neck. “It’s going to be awful not seeing you until Tuesday. Why don’t you come to Palm Springs with everyone, Kaley?”
I groan as his kisses move to my ear. “I can’t. It wouldn’t be right, Bobby, because everyone isn’t going. Zoe can’t and she’s really down, really depressed that Jake is going without her. I don’t want to ditch her. It wouldn’t be a nice thing to do.”
His mouth moves to my lips, teasing me slowly, and then eases back. “Fine. But I’m not going to have fun without you.”
I make a pout. “Yes, you are. Just don’t have too much fun. Instead, think of how much fun you’re going to have when you get back Tuesday.”
He grins. “Oh yeah. Definitely want to think about that.”
Laughing, I go back to the desk and quickly attach the video project to an e-mail and send it off to my visual arts teacher. “There. Done. If I can I’ll stop by your house before you leave.”
He loops his arm around my shoulders and walks me down to the detention room. He reaches for the knob and pulls me in for a fast, heated kiss before he opens the door.
“Try not to get into any more trouble for one hour,” he teases. “If you rack up a pink slip while serving time for a pink slip I’m pretty sure that’s not going to go well for you and I don’t want you grounded so we can’t take off for Santa Cruz next week.”
I make a silly face. “I’ll be a perfect angel.” I can feel my eyes grow sparkly. “I’d hate to ruin Santa Cruz for us.”
Bobby breathes out in a slow, luscious way. “I’ve been looking forward to a repeat of Thanksgiving for weeks.”
I flush. “Me, too.”
He pulls back the door wide. “In, Miss Stanton. The sooner you get in there, the sooner you get home.”
I enter the room. Empty—no surprise, since I’m pretty sure I’m the only one with a lame enough life to get detention the last day before a two-week break—and then I turn back to Bobby. “I’ll text you when I get home and let you know if I can go to your house before you leave.”
When the door closes behind me, I reach into my pocket for the pink slip and stop in front of the desk where my advocacy teacher is sitting.
I hold out the paper to her. “Sorry, Mrs. Trent.”
She looks up from her laptop and points at the chair. “Sit, Miss Stanton.” She leans back, staring at me above the rims of her half-glasses. She frowns. “Are you doing OK, dear?”
I tense.
That question I wasn’t expected.
I nod. “I’m great.”
Her crinkled brows lower. “I know you kids don’t think so, but you can talk to me about anything. Not just about your future academic plans. Talking to someone might work better than how you are dealing with your circumstance at present.”
Hmm—well, this is random. Where is she going with this?
She slaps shut the laptop, grabs a pen, and signs my pink slip. “Get out of here, Kaley. You don’t need detention for giving Natasha the bird. We’re done for today.”
I stare at her, stunned.
“Thank you, Mrs. Trent. You can be really cool sometimes.”
Her brows shoot up. “No, I’m not being cool. I want you to remember what I said. Talk to me. There are other ways to deal with your issues than how you are managing them.”
A burn crowds my cheeks, but I nod and hurry out of the room before she can say anything else or change her mind.
When I get to the parking lot, Bobby has already cut out. I debate whether I should go to his house and pretend I was at OCD or go home like Chrissie ordered me to.
I climb into my car and pull from my spot. At the exit, I look left toward Bobby’s and right toward my house. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel and I slowly exhale.
Go home, Kaley. Home. You just caught a break. Don’t fuck it up now.
Groaning, I turn right and head for home. When I enter the house it’s quiet—a good sign that I did the right thing not going to Bobby’s first—and I cross to the kitchen and dump my stuff on the center island.
Jeez, it doesn’t even sound like anyone is home.
I quickly start checking rooms.
Family room empty.
I open the French doors, step out onto the patio, and hear a raspy, accented voice. Oh crud. Alan is sitting at a table looking hyperindustrious—weird, totally weird—laptop open, definitely not happy, and his expression stiff like he’s in some sort of intense phone conversation.
Slowly, I step back and turn, trying to get into the house before he sees me.
“Kaley, please sit. I’ll be done with this in a second. I’d like to talk to you,” Alan announces, abrupt, and I turn to find him staring at me, cellphone away from his ear.
Fuck, are the planets out of whack or something?
Why does everyone want to talk to me today?
I close the sliding door and drop down onto a chair across the table from Alan. My leg starts to jiggle as I listen to him continue to jabber into the phone.
Waiting, Alan, waiting. So rude. Fuck. I’m going to miss Bobby if this keeps up.
“I’m sorry that took so long,” Alan says and I look up to see the cell sitting on the table. “I’m leaving for New York later tonight and there’s a lot going on right now.”
OK, status report done—as if I give a shit.
I smile. “It’s OK.”
His eyes lock on the computer and he starts clicking. “Come sit over here, Kaley. I want to show you something.”
I move to his side of the table and sit in the chair beside him. He moves the laptop in front of me.
“Your photographs are lovely. Your mom thinks so and so do I, but we would prefer if you stopped posting them online.”
For a second my heart stills until the screen comes into focus for my eyes. Then I frown. This is what all the fuss is about? It’s a picture of Mom and Alan with the boys. It’s a sweet picture. Our weird family normal.
I study it, feeling my emotion kick up. It’s undeniable. Definitely unexpected. Alan is a surprisingly good parental figure, and as involved a stepfather for my brothers and sisters as Jesse was for me. Nope, I didn’t expect that. It hasn’t been totally awful this repeat of living with Alan. Krystal and the twins seem happier.