Even though I was scared to go home and face the music, I knew it was unavoidable. I decided to get into my mother’s good graces before she and James came home. Because our “new” home was so old, it was more difficult to clean. Regardless, I painstakingly scrubbed the kitchen and bathroom from top to bottom until they were spotless and shiny. When I finished those two rooms, I dusted and vacuumed the whole downstairs. I looked around me. The antiquated summerhouse didn’t look so bad after all and I hoped that this would lessen whatever my mother had in store for me.
A few minutes later, I heard my mother’s car pull into the driveway. The front door opened and James came through it.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked nervously.
“She’s coming,” he said and signaled toward the driveway.
I stood there and waited, waited for whatever sentence would be handed down to me. In that moment, I was able to imagine what a supporter of the French Revolution felt like right before their hooded head was shoved inside the mouth of the guillotine. We had just learned about the barbaric executions in our World History class. Unconsciously, I rubbed my neck. It felt tense and sore.
Carrying her purse and dry cleaning, my mother breezed inside and headed for the kitchen. “Hi, dear,” she said as she passed me. “How was school?”
I shook my head to make sure I heard her correctly. I think she said, “How was school?”
I walked toward the kitchen to clear up any confusion. My mom ripped the plastic bags from her clothes and threw them into the trash.
“School was good,” I answered, cautiously. “How was it for you?”
She kept ripping. “It was good for me, too.”
I leaned against the doorway, baffled. Why wasn’t my mother screaming at me? She had to have found out by now about what happened Saturday night. The policeman said that someone from the school would be calling her, but I figured Mr. Woods would have told her, in person, first thing Monday morning. And, if so, why wasn’t she yelling and carrying on? Was she playing mind games with me; wanting to see if I would confess to her first?
“It’s not safe to keep the plastic bags on your dry cleaning. It keeps the harmful chemicals trapped on your clothing,” she informed me.
Dry cleaning, chemicals. What was the catch? Why was my mom so calm? I decided to go along with it. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mom, whenever I get something dry-cleaned.”
She looked at me and smiled. “Good.”
I turned to leave. “By the way, Willow, I’m making your favorite for dinner tonight, Chicken Parmesan.”
“Great. Can’t wait,” I said as I headed for the stairs.
“Also, Brian’s joining us!” she shouted after me.
There it was. The catch. I climbed the stairs and rolled my eyes, wondering what other tricks my mom had waiting up her dry-cleaned sleeve.
• • •
Brian and his giantness joined us for dinner. I was so hungry at that point, I didn’t care who dined with us. I couldn’t wait to eat the delicious chicken smothered in tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese.
As soon as I was done eating, I cleared my dishes and excused myself. Before I was able to flee from the kitchen, Brian spoke. “Willow, why don’t you and I clean up and let your mother relax for a little while. She put a lot of hard work into making this delicious meal for us.”
I shrugged. “Okay,” even though I was thinking about how much housework I had already done earlier in the day. My mom did eventually notice that the house sparkled. I lied and told her I was happy to do it.
All through dinner I had been tense, wondering when my mom was going to confront me. A small part of me felt that maybe she didn’t know yet what had happened. I couldn’t imagine my mom playing it cool the whole time if she knew that I had illegally broken into a school, especially hers.
“Thanks, you two,” my mom said before she went into the family room to relax on the couch and read.
I cleared the table as Brian rinsed the dishes.
“So, Willow. How’s it going over at Portland High?”
“Good,” was all I said. I was in the kitchen to clean, not to chat with Mr. Roberts.
As I placed more dishes down next to the sink, Brian grabbed my wrist, bent down and whispered to me. “Listen, Willow. Mr. Woods spoke to me this morning about your little incident at the school on Saturday night.”
My big, blue eyes got even bigger.
He continued. “I told Mr. Woods that I would tell your mother, but I haven’t yet. As you know, we’re going away this weekend to meet my family in New Hampshire and I didn’t want to upset her unnecessarily beforehand.”
My eyes darted around the room nervously before I looked back at Brian. Slowly I responded, “Okay.”
“Your mother said she asked you if you wanted to join us, but you said no because you have an important school project to work on. You and James may have no choice but to come with us if I don’t feel I can trust leaving you two home alone.”
“No, you can. I promise. It was a stupid mistake and I’ll never do it again. I promise. Please don’t tell her. Ever,” I pleaded.
Brian freed me from his grasp and continued rinsing. “I can’t guarantee you that, Willow, especially since this is your second offense. If I feel the need to tell your mother the whole truth, at any moment, I just may have to.”
I was confused at first, but then slowly realized what Brian was really saying. He was going to hold this over my head forever, like a threat, in order to keep me in line.
I became indignant and pulled out a trump card I didn’t think I’d have to use so soon. “Well, what if I tell my mom about you and the lady I saw in the parking lot that same night?” I couldn’t believe I said it, especially since I had wanted to investigate and gather some evidence first.
Brian shook his head and acted all confused and innocent. “What lady? What parking lot?”
I wasn’t about to buy his clueless act. “You know what I’m talking about,” I sneered.
Brian glared at me. “I most certainly do not and I do not appreciate your tone, young lady.”
I backed away from Brian. “I’m done in here,” I scowled before I turned to leave.
With one giant step, Brian left the sink and beat me to the doorway. He put his face directly in front of mine and spoke softly but firmly. “Do not make me tell her, Willow,” he warned, “because I will.”
I bravely stared back at Brian and wasn’t going to show him one ounce of fear, while feeling completely terrified on the inside. Forcing my fakest grin, I smiled up at him before making my way through the spotless family room and straight up the stairs to my room, in search of refuge through my own, self-imposed exile.
• • •
I stayed in my room for the rest of the night, claiming that I had too much homework and couldn’t join the others for dessert. I really did have a ton of homework and was intimidated enough by Brian to pass up chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.
I heard the front door close and looked at my clock. It was after eight. I heard Brian start his car and take off. Not long afterward I heard someone climb the stairs and walk toward my room.
There was a soft knock.
“Come in,” I said.
Slowly my mom opened the door. “Is everything alright, Willow?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“I figured something had to be wrong for you not to eat some cake.”
I shook my head. “I’m just tired.”
“Okay,” she said as she began to close my door.
“Mom?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Was Brian ever the principal over at Orchard?”
My mother looked at me curiously before she answered. “Yes, he used to be a few years ago.”
“Why isn’t he anymore?”
“He gave up the position for personal reasons.”
I felt I had the right to know why. “What reasons?”
“Willow, I am not at liberty to d
iscuss Brian’s private career choices with you.”
I got defensive. “I just wanted to know and think it’s a fair question.”
“Then you’ll have to ask Brian next time you see him.”
I quickly shook my head. “No. Forget it. I don’t want to know that badly.”
My mother shrugged her little shoulders. “Fine. It’s up to you,” she said before she shut my door and left.
I closed my Spanish textbook and grabbed my laptop. I needed a break and wanted to check out MyWeb. Just then, my phone rang. I quickly picked up without looking at the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Hey, there!”
I smiled. “Hi, Michael. How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good, thanks. What are you up to?”
“Just taking a break from studying. What about you?”
“Working on a poem.”
“What’s it called?”
“It’s a secret.”
“That’s an odd name for a poem.” I giggled.
“Good one,” Michael said enthusiastically. “Be patient. You’ll find out soon enough.”
“When will that be?”
“When you come visit me this weekend.”
“This weekend?” I asked.
“Remember. You said your mom would let you come and see me in Portland. I figure, the sooner, the better. I’d come there, but I don’t want to have a set back.”
“Ugh! My mom’s going away for the weekend with that guy and leaving me here with my brother.”
“Who’s ‘that guy’? You mean Brian?”
“Yeah, him.
“Give the poor guy a break, Willow. He’s good to your mother, isn’t he?”
I slowly nodded. “I guess, but how much does she really know about that guy?”
Michael cleared his throat loudly.
“I mean Brian.”
“I don’t know,” Michael offered, “but it must be enough for her to feel it’s okay to marry him.”
I let out a deep sigh, a sigh I found myself resorting to a lot lately whenever the subject of my mom and her impending wedding came up. I needed to forget about the bride and groom and switch gears for a moment.
“I suppose I could sneak away for a little,” I thought and said aloud. I quickly thought better of it and changed my mind. “Forget it. I can’t leave James home alone. Remember what happened the last time I came to see you?”
Michael chuckled. “Did he end up calling 911?”
“No, thank God, but the house reeked of burnt popcorn for weeks!”
Michael and I both laughed. I wasn’t about to tell him about the incident at the elementary school and the fact that I couldn’t risk screwing up anymore. Not over the phone anyway.
“Bring him then.”
“What? Bring my brother to see you on the mainland?”
“Sure! Why not? We can all go out to lunch. There’s a great sandwich shop down the street, not too far from the pier.”
“You sure?” I asked, full of doubt.
“Of course. I wouldn’t even care if your mom and ‘that guy’ tagged along as long as I can see you.”
I gave in. “Okay, but I gotta convince my pain-in-the-neck brother first.”
“Doesn’t he play Zombie Hunt?”
“Yeah, why?”
“’Cause the newest version goes on sale this Friday. Tell him you want to come to Portland on Saturday and you’ll get it for him.”
I nodded. “That just might work. How’d you know how to entice him?”
“I have a little brother, too, don’t forget, and I’ve been known to slay a zombie or two in my youth.”
“In your youth?” I asked playfully. “And when was that?”
“About eleven o’clock last night.”
We both laughed. Michael and I talked until midnight. After we hung up, I was in a much better mood and no longer able to suppress my strong craving anymore. Ever so quietly, I snuck downstairs, crept into the kitchen and cut myself a big piece of delectable, chocolate cake.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
In the Middle of Nowhere (Willow's Journey #1) Page 34
