Chapter 22
Chapter 22
I sigh and set down my spoon and fork. “I’m so worried about you. You’re acting… weird lately. I don’t know what’s going on because you won’t tell me. And I can’t help but assume the worst.”
She doesn’t respond. She stares at her untouched food. I give up, finish eating quickly, wash the dishes, and tell her I’m going to bed. The weight of everything makes it hard to sleep. I don’t want to hear something terrible from her. I turn off the ceiling light, letting the porch light glow through my window. Then suddenly there’s a knock. She enters without waiting for me to answer, turns on the lamp, and sits beside me. I pretend to be asleep.
“I know you’re awake, sweetheart.” She tangles her fingers gently in my hair. “Arya and Zara came earlier. They’re looking for you. Tonight’s The Pedals’ concert.”
I peek under the blanket.
“They said they couldn’t reach you. Harry came, too. He gave me VIP tickets for the concert. I told him I’d wait for you.” she says.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t worry, he’ll understand. I know.”
She asks if she can sleep in my room tonight. She misses how I used to crawl into bed with her and dad when I was little.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, maybe I’m in a drugged state, but I turn on my alarm last night, and the fact that mom wakes me up because she thinks I have class is so ironic. I nearly get up and get dressed, but when I look at the date on my alarm, it says today’s Saturday.
I’m not a coffee person in the morning, but today I think I need one. I grab my favorite mug and make myself coffee, then grab the cereals and pour the milk on them. I sit on the stool at the counter while having breakfast when I get visitors named Zara, Arya, Landon, and Harry. I thought the zombie apocalypse takes over the city. They don’t knock they just storm inside the house thinking that they’re welcome here, and if they do knock maybe I don’t hear it. Mom is on the sofa laughing while I get annoyed. I hear mom telling them where I am; the next thing I know is that I’m facing their different emotions.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask them, shoving a spoon in my mouth. “Are zombies all over the city at this time?”
“Why the hell didn’t you show up last night?” Arya asks as she walks toward me.
Zara calmly walks toward the table and puts her hands on the counter, looking at me. “We were worried. You weren’t answering your phone and you didn’t even wait for us after practice, and you were so quiet yesterday.”
Landon and Harry walk toward the table and lean on the counter.
“You missed the concert but it’s okay that you didn’t show up.” Landon says.
Harry looks at him twitching his eyebrows. “For me,” he adds.
Harry stares at me. I don’t know if I have to explain something. I look at the cereals but lose interest in eating them; they turn into sad cereal in my bowl. Instead of shoving my breakfast in, I put it down.
“I’m fine.” I say, but no one believes me.
“You have to say something. What’s wrong? It’s been two days and you look like a vampire just bit you!” Zara says, irritated.
I do wish a vampire bit me so I can be immortal and have powers just like Bella Swan, but that’s clearly not the problem.
“Zara’s right. Is this because of the rumors that have been bothering you?” says Arya.
I look at her, and she’s waiting for me to answer. Harry shoots me a look that seems to ring in my ears. I thought he knew about the rumors, but he looks clueless, then he asks about it like he can’t pick up what Arya’s trying to say, just then proving my hunch about it. I look at Arya, giving her a hint not to say anything, but she doesn’t understand what my eyes mean. She says all the accusations and gossip about me in school. Harry looks at me with pity in his eyes.
“It’s not about that!” I yell before Arya finishes telling the rest of the rumor. I slam my hands on the counter, hurting my hands. “There’s something more to this, okay?! And I can’t tell you anything about it! Maybe you have to leave now!” I’m shouting through my lungs. I know mom heard me shouting, and she just pops up in the kitchen.
They look at me like time stops turning. They’re frozen for about half a minute before turning around and leaving me alone in the kitchen. I can hear murmuring in the living room before they leave the house. Mom returns to the kitchen after she walks them to the door. She looks mad at how I treated my friends when they’re all just concerned about me, especially what happened yesterday.
“What’s that?” Mom asks.
“Mom, I’m just tired. I don’t want to talk to anyone.” I say.
“So, you don’t want to talk to me?”
“Mom, that’s not what I want to say. All I’m saying is that I’m so tired of being their puppet! Do this, do that, all in their favor. What about what I want?” As soon as I say those, I regret every word I just said, but I can’t unsay it. Besides, I don’t feel any guilt for saying it, and I don’t regret it either.
At lunch, mom cooks fettuccine Alfredo, her favorite pasta. She’s trying to start a conversation by asking me about the rumors that I seriously don’t want to talk about. I look at her without saying anything then she gets the cue and keeps her mouth shut.
After we finish the food, we go to the living room where I think mom will confess something. I don’t want to guess because I’ve been blindly searching for the answer to my question in the dark for three days. Mom’s eyes turn red, followed by the liquid escaping from her eyes. That’s the moment I remember I don’t want the truth.