Chapter 80: Curiosity Timing has never been my strong suit. It must be an inherited trait because my mom's timing is the worst. In the midst of Luke's party, she chooses now to come strolling back. And I couldn't just let her leave. I've waited weeks for this. I haven't been able to sleep because of this (+ home intruder). I'd be damned if I watched another family member walk out the door. I'm so sick of never seeing them again. 9 Dupont Avenue was busy celebrating Luke's accomplishments. Their door sprung open and blue balloons bobbed at its threshold. Mr Dawson, Mrs Dawson, Luke's coach and Jamie sprinkled out into the street, wanting to bring Luke back to the party. He was their pride and joy after all. My mom watched the troupe walking towards us, all dressed up, and it was only rubbing their family's successes in her face. We may be neighbors, but we had very different opportunities growing up. Luke and I stood, still hand in hand and I turned towards him, pressing my hands against his chest. He was their star and we were castaways. It's comical really. "Please go back," I told Luke, "Let's avoid making a scene." He didn't say anything, but I could see his internal conflict, the dark look in his eyes, as he decided whether to stay or go. He wanted to help, but his presence was not calming here. When my mom looked at Luke, she saw his parents who'd called social services on us when we were kids. When my mom looked at Luke, she saw yet another boy who said he was going to be supportive forever... And she didn't believe in that anymore. My father had made the same promise: faithful one day and gone the next. I watched Luke walk across to meet his family halfway. He ushered them back, though they continued to stare at us in curiosity, wondering what had drawn us all outside. Mr Dawson, especially, had a very cold look on his face. And my mom's expression reciprocated that. I saw Jamie standing next to her father, Luke's coach. I hadn't seen her in so long, but our eyes made contact and she looked away. Behind me, the gambler's friend was carting slabs of wood back into his truck. He went back for his saw and passed by Austin and Jake, who were standing on the pavement, looking confused at what he was doing. I had so many questions left to ask my mom, but it looked like my opportunity to ask her was fading fast. I tried to keep my voice down, not wanting anyone else to hear, "Can you just tell me why you didn't come back when the police called?" My mom was still clutching her breadbasket full of weed and responded like the question was a nuisance, "They said nothing was stolen and that it was likely someone you know from school. I'm sure your life wasn't in danger from some childish prank." "Then why didn't you take me with you?" I asked, listing off my questions. It was not a childish prank. "My boyfriend doesn't like kids," she replied, glancing over at Luke's parents. "You took Flora though," I reminded her, "He must be ok with kids." I felt like she was not telling me the truth. "Flora's older than you and she spends most of her time out," mom replied, "I had to get off this street, ok? Now stop being dramatic and let me go. I'll be back in a few days." Why? "I don't have money," I said. "You have that part time-" "I was fired, mom," I said, "I'm broke and I'm seventeen. What am I supposed to do?" "Here," my mom said, digging into her purse for some cash. She handed me a few scrunched-up notes and I meekly accepted. I was not above begging. I needed this. "Why do you keep looking at Mr Dawson?" I asked her. "That's enough questioning, Millie! You are so suspicious of me and you're determined to make me look like a bad mom. I took care of you when your own dad didn't ok?! You've always idolized him but he's a lowlife piece of sh*t!" I backed down. Like I said, I didn't want to make a scene. "Careful!" Jake yelled out suddenly. In all my mom's anger, she swung open the front door and almost hit the gambler's friend, who was walking by with his saw. He dropped it onto the street and the metal clattered against the concrete next to me. I bent down to pick it up. "Careful, Millie," Jake repeated from a distance, knowing me well, "There's an old lady walking behind you." I was careful in handling the saw. My hands wrapped around the grip and I picked it up cautiously, staring at the long blade and its sharp teeth. Slowly, I whispered to myself as I slowly turned around. One wrong move and I... I didn't want to think about it. Jake had said something about an old lady, so I was careful not to make any sudden movements. I looked behind me and saw a woman in a long brown shawl and green skirt shuffling down the street. She had glasses perched on top of her head and a cane that led the way. She was the old lady who lived at number 34 Dupont Avenue and who used to take care of Winnifred. But when she saw me, her expression changed to terror. I tried to lower the saw, thinking that might be the reason why she looked terrified. "YOU AGAIN!" she screamed. Oh, no. I glanced over at Luke at the exact same time as he turned towards me. He was across the street, standing next to his family, but I could see his expression so clearly. He saw me holding a giant saw in front of the angry old lady. And I saw his lips move: "Not again." This doesn't look good, I'll admit. "MURDERER!" the lady screamed at me, waving her cane, "IT'S NOT ENOUGH TO KILL MY CAT, NOW YOU STALK ME DOWN THE STREET! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!" I couldn't imagine how anyone else was interpreting this. The old lady inhaled sharply to catch her breath, and in the silence, Jake laughed. Thrown off guard, the old lady glared at him. Her cane found its new focus. Jake continued to cackle, "I'm sorry but this situation... is too absurd for me. I..." he doubled over in laughter. I handed over the saw to the gambler's friend who took it to his pickup truck. I then backed away, off the pavement so she didn't feel any kind of threat from me. Attention moved away from us and the old lady shuffled along, cursing profanities in my general direction. Jake controlled his laughter. And in all this commotion, Austin stared down at the clear plastic bag by his feet. "Is no one going to talk about the pound of weed?" My mom had dropped the breadbasket and the weed had tumbled out, landing in front of him. ** Curiosity killed the cat. But if you ask the old lady down the street, I did it. I watched my mom drive off in her boyfriend's car with his pound of weed. She left behind the broken breadbasket. And me. She also left me.