Chapter 136
“Mom,” he said, already grabbing a granola bar like he owned the kitchen. “I’m going out.”
“Going out?” I echoed, arms crossed. “With whom?”
He smirked, all sly and dramatic. “Friends. You know… hanging out.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Friends, plural?”
“Uh… yeah. “Friends, plural,” he said, not flinching. He was good at that, the smoothness. He got it from Xander too. I gritted my teeth and reminded myself I didn’t care about popularity contests. Except… maybe I did. A little.
“Do you even have a plan, or are you just going to wander around and hope the world falls in love with you?”
He rolled his eyes like I’d asked something dumb. “Relax, Mom. I’ve got it handled.”
Handled. That word. That damn word made me want to follow him outside and hover from a bush like a normal mother. Instead, I let it slide. Sort of.
The thing about being a Thorne kid? People notice you. Always. Girls. Boys. Teachers. Friends. Random strangers on the street. Alexander had always had a presence. Now, at sixteen, it was… something else. Girls started noticing the little things: the curl in his hair, the way he laughed, and the way he looked like he already had a plan for the universe. And yes, my stomach twisted sometimes at the thought that he was becoming the kind of teenage boy who didn’t just take candy from strangers; he charmed them too.
That first day, he came home hours later with stories, some girl names, jokes, and laughter spilling out of him like sunlight. I listened. Smile. d. Pretended not to take mental notes.
“Mom, she’s… interesting,” he said, grinning like it was a secret code just for me. “Smart. Likes to argue. I like arguing. You know that.”
“I know,” I said carefully. “Just… remember that people are people. Not chess pieces.”
“Mom, I know.”
I didn’t believe him. I smiled anyway.
Days turned into weeks. Alexander’s charm offensive expanded like wildfire. Suddenly, our house felt… different. Doors opening, closing, laughter echoing, whispers. And yes, girls calling, texting, Instagram messages… the full teenage storm. He was sixteen. He was living it. And I was losing sleep over it.
Xander noticed too. He’d sneak glances at me sometimes, a look that said, “He’s your son. You’re in this.” And I’d glance back, tired and amused, thinking, “Yeah. I know. It’s my son. And oh, God…”
One afternoon, I caught Alexander sneaking out the side gate with a backpack and that smug look again. I sighed and didn’t yell. Not yet. I followed him discreetly in the car, making sure he didn’t get into actual trouble. Teenagers think they’re invisible. Parents know better.
He met up with Lila, of course. Still best friends, still plotting minor chaos, now with a dash of romance thrown in. The way they laughed together, whispered plans, and poked each other’s ribs… My heart hurt in the best way. Dangerous, funny, inevitable teenage energy.
“Alexander,” I called as I pulled the car closer. He froze. Lila waved innocently. “Mom!”
“I’m… not mad,” I lied through my teeth. “Just… keeping an eye. You’re sixteen. That’s dangerous territory.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, Mom. Totally fine.”
I sighed. “Fine until someone texts me that you’re in the ER for a stupid reason.”
He laughed, that stupid infuriating laugh that reminded me he was mine. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it handled.”
Handled. That damn word again.
By dinner, Alexander was animated, telling stories about the café they’d hung out at, the prank war he and Lila had started with some other kids, and yes, girls he didn’t even know he’d noticed until today. I listened, nodded, and asked questions that sounded casual but really were like interrogation tactics. Xander and I had a system. We monitored without smothering. Allowed freedom but not chaos that could kill someone. Or get him expelled. Or… worse.
Alexander noticed too. The smirk he gave me said, “I know you’re watching. You’re hopeless.”
I pretended not to notice.
Weeks later, I started realizing the true fun of sixteen. Drama. Hormones. Crushes. Small rebellions. I had to remind myself to breathe. To step back. To trust him to make mistakes and learn. And oh, he did. Big time. Minor skirmishes with friends, arguments with teachers, sneaking into town after hours. Nothing catastrophic. Yet.
One night, I overheard him in the living room. Lila was there. They were planning something wild, like building a secret club in the woods, with codes, passwords, and nighttime adventures. I shook my head, amused and exasperated.
“Alexander Thorne,” I muttered to myself. “Sixteen and already planning world domination.”
Xander came up behind me. “He gets it from you.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this sneaky at sixteen,” I said, half smiling, half worried. “I may have pulled a prank or two.”
Xander laughed. “And look where you are now. Calm, measured, terrifying. He’s doing his own thing. Let him run.”
Easier said than done. Watching your kid grow, test boundaries, flirt with danger, and flirt with girls all at the same time… that’s a special kind of chaos.
Alexander’s birthdays were full of parties, laughter, and minor chaos. He invited friends from school, kids from the neighborhood, Lila, and her crew. The house echoed with music and voices and teenage energy. I stood at the edge, coffee in hand, smiling, but my gut twisted like I’d swallowed a storm.
He leaned over later, whispering in my ear, “Mom… we’re not doing anything bad, I promise.”
I smiled and ruffled his hair. “I know. Sort of. But yes, I know. Mostly.”
By the time he turned sixteen and a half, I realized something: Alexander was unstoppable. He had Lila, a tight crew, and a knack for chaos that was impressive and terrifying. He’d learned stealth, timing, charm, humor, and recklessness all at once. My son was… thriving. Growing into someone who would test limits, challenge rules, push boundaries, and still somehow survive. Just like his parents.
And me? I was learning to step back, trust him, and maybe, just maybe, not die of heart attacks every time he sneaked out or flirted with someone new.
The house was louder than it had ever been. Doors slamming, music blasting, laughter echoing. Teenage energy was a tornado, and Alexander was the center. I watched him run, jump, argue, and make up, and I felt… proud. Scared, but proud.
Because he was mine. Dangerous, reckless, charming, infuriating… mine.
And I knew the next five years? Chaos. Absolute chaos. Girls, friends, pranks, fights, late-night escapades. Alexander was sixteen. And life wasn’t slowing down anytime soon.
Some days, I swear my kid is part tornado. Today was one of those days.
I got the call just as I was sipping my third cup of coffee, the one I’d promised myself would make me feel alive instead of perpetually tense. “Mrs. Thorne?” The voice on the other end sounded way too chipper for someone calling about trouble. “It’s the school. Alexander…”
I froze mid-sip. Not choking, exactly, but my stomach did a little flip. “What about Alexander?”