Hailee shrugs, but doesn’t offer more than that, and it’s obvious that Mom is about to lose her patience.
“How was your day, Mommy?” Kyle asks, cutting one of his carrots into a million little pieces. “Did you sell any insurgants?”
While his mispronunciation of “insurance” causes me to cringe, Mom just looks happy for a conversation change.
“Yeah, Ky-Ky, I did,” she tells him with a smile, “so today was a pretty good day.”
He gives her a simple nod as he proceeds to slaughter another one of his carrots. “Cool.”
“May I be excused?” Hailee asks in a dry voice, pushing her plate aside.
And there goes Mom’s smile.
“Sure,” Mom says, matching Hailee’s tone, “please take your dishes to the kitchen though.”
At that, Hailee doesn’t waste any time in standing up and gathering her stuff before leaving the dining room.
Kyle’s eyebrows crease as he turns his attention back to Mom. “Why is Hailee mad?”
“She’s not mad, sweetie,” Mom assures him, despite the sound of Hailee stomping upstairs. “Your sister is just a little upset.”
The sudden, and extremely loud, door-slam begs to differ. And the award for world’s moodiest preteen goes to…
“Well, she sounds mad,” Kyle observes, not looking convinced. “I think you might be wrong.”
Mom’s lips purse as she stands to her feet. “I’ll be right back…you two keep eating.”
“Why does Hailee want a boyfriend?” Kyle asks once Mom leaves the room.
“Peer pressure.”
“What’s that?”
I pop the last part of my dinner roll into my mouth. “You’ll see.”
“When?”
“Give it a couple more years.”
“Hey, Megan?”
I give him a lazy look. “Yes?”
He holds up a finger, then finishes chewing his food. “Are zebras white with black stripes, or are they black with white stripes?”
“Uhhhhh…I don’t know.”
Because in the scope of things, animal trivia isn’t very high on my list of priorities.
“But you’re in high school,” he drawls, pushing his mashed carrots around with his fork, “shouldn’t you know that already?”
“Stop judging me.”
He laughs, even though that wasn’t funny at all, then squints at his stupid carrots. “Who picked that carrots would be vegetables?”
Who cares?
“I don’t know, dude,” I tell him with some level of exasperation, “maybe a farmer or something.”
“Ah.” He nods like that makes perfect sense. “A carrot farmer.”
“Sure.”
Anything to make him stop.
“Hey, Megan?”
For the love of—
“What, Kyle?”
“Where do babies come from?”
“Okay,” I say, getting up from my seat, “question time is over.”
——————
My morning is fine. How could it not be with spilled milk, complaining, yelling, “bad” words, and the drama of where babies come from?
Let’s just say I’m actually excited to be going to school.
“Okay, everyone needs to finish up!” Mom exclaims, clapping her hands together. “Put the cereal away and grab your backpacks, now please!”
I don’t know why she’s saying “everyone,” I’ve been ready to go for almost ten minutes now.
“Kyle Jamison Taylor!” she hollers, following Kyle into his bedroom. “If I catch you with your finger in your nose one more time…”
Ya know, the bus isn’t looking so terrible right now.
“Mommmmmm!” Hailee whines, coming out of the kitchen with her eyes glued to her phone. “I’m gonna be lateeeeeee!”
Oh no, it’s the end of the world.
“You shouldn’t have taken an hour on your hair,” I tell her with a smirk.
She looks up from her phone to raise an eyebrow at me. “Well, you should’ve taken more than five minutes on yours.”
I can’t help feeling a little bit proud of her clapback.
Before I get the chance to say anything else to her though, she disappears into Kyle’s room. Probably to complain some more.
Just as I’m about to burn some brain cells by using my phone, Mom comes back into the living room with the two of them trailing behind her. “We’re leaving! Hailee, go ahead and take Kyle outside, I need to talk to your sister really quick.”
Oh no, that’s never good. Dang it, she must’ve found out that I ditched Brayden yesterday.
“Ooooooh,” Kyle cackles as he follows Hailee to the front door, “Megan’s in troubleeee!”
The little…
“So, what’s up, Mom?” I ask after they’re both outside. “Is something wrong?”
“I just wanted to see if you could do a favor for me,” she states in a matter-of-fact way, “it’s about Hailee.”
Yeah, I don’t think I like where this is going.
“Okay,” I drawl, my right leg starting to bounce with impatience, “so what kind of favor is it?”
“She’s really having a hard time with the no-dating-rule,” Mom says, letting out a sigh, “which you obviously know, but I was thinking that you could have a little one-on-one time with her? Maybe share a little bit about what happened in middle school with that boy? Bradley, right?”
I don’t hold it against her that she doesn’t remember the name of my middle school boyfriend, I’m actually glad she doesn’t remember. Can you imagine how awkward and horrifying that would be?
“That’s wrong, isn’t it?” she asks with a wince. “Sorry, honey, sometimes my mom brain gets the best of me. It started with a ‘B’ though, didn’t it?”
“Don’t worry, Mom,” I say, standing to my feet, “his name doesn’t really matter. That’s all in the past anyway.”
Well, mostly…
“Just give me a second,” she tsks, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “I have to remember this. He was your first boyfriend, after all.”
“Really, it’s fine. We don’t want to be late—”
“Brandon?” She quickly shakes her head. “No, it wasn’t that. But I’m getting closer, right?”
“Mom, let’s not—”
“Go ahead and tell me,” she interrupts with a frustrated huff, “otherwise it’s going to drive me crazy.”
I really do have terrible luck.
“Brayden.” I say it so fast, like ripping off a bandage, and I wonder if she even heard me. Her now puzzled expression tells me that she did.
“Brayden?” she echoes, literally blinking at me. “But not like…?”
I offer a weak nod. “Same Brayden.”
“His mother did say they used to live here,” she says, almost to herself. “I guess it just didn’t occur to me…” She then crosses her arms before giving me an accusing look. “Why didn’t you tell me that it was the same Brayden? I knew there was something familiar about that last name!”
“It’s not a big deal,” I assure her, forcing myself to sound nonchalant, “really, Mom. And I can totally talk with Hailee.”
As long as we don’t have to continue this conversation…
“Does he remember you too?” she asks, completely ignoring what I just said. “Didn’t he use to wear glasses? He must wear contacts now. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner!”
“Mom,” I say, stepping toward the front door, “we’re going to be late. You don’t want us getting tardied, do you?”
“All right,” she huffs, flinging her arms in the air, “but we will be talking about this more later.”
Yay.
Chapter 8: Her Grabby Hands
One day. It’s only been one day, and the halls are already buzzing with Brayden’s name. I shouldn’t be surprised though; he was pretty popular back in middle school, which seemed like the coolest thing at first…but lost its appeal later on. I’
m still convinced that’s why he wanted to date other girls. They all adored him, and the attention went to his stupid, preteen brain.
I shake my head to clear my brain as I continue to walk down the hallway. Why do I keep wasting time thinking about the past? It’s over. Done. Just because Brayden and his family moved back into town, doesn’t mean I have to mentally relive what life was like when he and I “dated.”
Exactly.
“He can be my knight in shining armor,” I hear a passing girl tell her friend. “What a hottie!”
Oh, please. She couldn’t be any more original?
I’m not bitter.
I am, however, dragging my feet to Mrs. Flint’s classroom. I never minded British Lit before, but that was when I didn’t have to share a tablet with him. Sure, I could’ve fussed and suggested that someone else share theirs with him, but that would’ve just made me look immature…which I’m not.
I can still be unhappy about my mature decision though.
Once I reach the classroom door, I can’t help but entertain the idea that maybe he won’t show up for class. Like, maybe he’s sick. Or maybe he’s busy making out with one of his new admirers. Either option is better than us sitting within close proximity again.
Except, this is my life that we’re talking about here, so when I walk into the room, Brayden’s already sitting in the middle row. With a chair and desk right beside him, because somehow Mrs. Flint couldn’t miraculously find another tablet for him to use. Ugh, ugh, ugh.
I trudge over in that direction, and then bite back a curse as I drop down into the seat next to his.
“Megan—”
I put a hand up to stop him, not even bothering to look his way. “Just because Mrs. Flint needs me to share my tablet with you, doesn’t mean that either of us need to make conversation. Okay?”
“Well, I—”
“Excuse me,” a light voice interrupts him, “I think you’re in my seat.”
I turn my gaze to the right and see a black-haired girl standing next to my desk, with an expectant look on her face. Her seat? Who is she talking to? Brayden?
“Hey, Celise,” Brayden drawls, apparently aware of who this girl is. “We just had a little misunderstanding, that’s all. Megan was actually about to get up…weren’t you, Meg?”
No, I actually wasn’t. But if Celise wants to sit here and share her tablet with him, who am I to stop her?
“Yep,” I agree with him in a tight voice. “I’m going to get out of your way right now, Celise.”
So, I stand up (making sure not to look at him) and step around Celise. Then I whisper to her, “Good luck.”
Either she doesn’t hear me, or she flat-out ignores me, because she takes the seat in a hot second without even sparing a glance in my direction. And in less than a hot second, she starts chattering up a storm with Brayden.
Well, then. I guess that’s my cue to go.
Class goes by relatively fast, and for that I am so grateful; because watching Celise hang all over Brayden was disturbing, to say the least. Not that I was keeping tabs on her, or him, because I wasn’t. Her grabby hands were just impossible to miss. Ask anyone in this classroom! Except for that guy sitting in the back row…I’m pretty sure he was asleep most of the time.
Beyond ready for my next class, I leave the classroom and turn into the hallway, all while wishing I had some flippin’ coffee.
I’m not a big coffee drinker, mostly because Mom and Dad don’t want me “habitually drinking it” (their actual words), but I could really go for some right now. Is that so wrong? No, no it’s not. Coffee sounds magical.
“Hey, Megan!”
Oh no.
It’s him.
“Meg!”
What does he want?
Nope, you know what? It doesn’t matter. I don’t care about what he wants. I am walking down this hallway to my next class, and I am NOT giving him the time of day.
“Feisty!”
I’m not turning around. That doesn’t bother me. If I keep ignoring him then—
“You know, I really thought calling you that would work,” he interrupts my rationalizing, now standing in front of me. “I’m a little disappointed.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Well, I really don’t care.”
“Look,” he says with a slight lip twitch, “after class yesterday, Celise offered to share her tablet with me until I get my own. And seeing as how you weren’t too thrilled to be sharing a tablet with me, I thought it’d be a good idea to take Celise up on her offer.”
I’m mentally rolling my eyes so hard right now. “Why exactly are you telling me this?”
“You seemed frustrated when Celise came over to sit down,” he replies, shrugging a shoulder, “so I just wanted to clear things up.”
I almost scoff. “I don’t need you to clear anything up for me, Brayden. Okay? I’m—” I stop when I see that stupid lopsided grin on his face. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I was wondering how long it’d take for you to say my name,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow at me. “Maybe you can stop being mad at me now, hmm?”
Since when is he so observant? I remember getting bangs back in middle school, and it took him three whole days to notice. THREE!
“Maybe you can stop bothering me,” I shoot back, pursing my lips at him, “how about that?”
I don’t wait for a response as I stride past him and continue walking down the hallway. You know what? I have solid reasoning for being mad at him. Not only did he turn out to be a terrible boyfriend (I use that term very loosely, by the way), but he’s also a terrible neighbor. I mean, who shamelessly flirts like that with someone they don’t even know? Okay, so technically he does know me…but he didn’t realize who I was yet. PLUS, he was totally conceited! And he made fun of me!
Stop being mad at him? No, I don’t think so.
——————
“Hey, do you know where Lora is?”
I finish chewing my piece of apple, then swallow and look up at Holt. “No, I don’t. She hasn’t come in here yet.”
He sighs, running a hand through his messy brown hair. “I need to talk to her.”
“Sounds serious,” I drawl with an eye-roll, “but like I said…I don’t know where she is.”
“Maybe she’s in the bathroom,” he mutters to himself, stepping away from the table. “Thanks anyway, Megan.”
I shake my head as I watch him leave the cafeteria. And now he’s going to stalk the bathrooms. Wonderful.
More than likely though, Lora is in some random hallway; losing track of time while she watches yet another cat video.
Or she could be walking toward me from the other side of the room.
I raise an eyebrow at the sight of her. “Were you outside?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“I took your advice,” she says, sitting down across from me.
“Uh…” I trail off as she eats one of my crackers. “What advice?”
I don’t even remember giving her advice. When the heck did I do that?
“Wait!” I exclaim, now remembering. “Do you mean the advice I gave you about getting another ear piercing?” I then look at her in confusion. “But what does that have to do with you being outside?”
“I’m not talking about the ear piercing, Meg,” she replies, widening her eyes at me. “I’m talking about me getting a tutor. You literally suggested the idea yesterday, remember?”
“Ohhhhh,” I drawl, nodding a couple of times. “Yeah, that makes more sense. So, you found someone to tutor you then?”
“Paul Winthers,” she says with a slight shrug, “he scored really well on our last history test, so I figured he’d be a good person to ask. We’re supposed to meet after school.”
“Gotcha. Well, you should know that while you were outside talking to Paul…your ex came over this way looking for you.”
She scowls, proceeding to glance around the cafeteria. “Is he still in
here?”
“Nah, he convinced himself that you were in the bathroom.”
“He’s ridiculous,” she huffs, standing to her feet, “and I’m hungry. I’ll be right back, okay?”
I motion to the air around me. “And I will be right here.”
She makes a face at me before walking off toward the lunch line, and I resume eating my food. Well, until my phone buzzes anyway.
Mom: Hey, honey! Don’t forget about that heart-to-heart with Hailee, okay? I’ll be taking Kyle to soccer practice after we’re all settled at home, so it will be the perfect time for you and your sister to talk. Love you!
Ugh, that’s right. I agreed to share my “dating experience” with Miss Attitude.
Yay.
I send her a thumbs-up, and a heart…because less is more.
“Looks like you could use some company.”
That stupid voice of his could melt butter.
I pocket my phone as I watch him sit across from me. “I think I’m fine, actually.”
“Humor me, Meg,” Brayden drawls, resting his folded arms on the table, “I’m still the new guy, after all. It’s not like I have a bunch of people that want me sitting with them.”
“I don’t want you sitting with me,” I say in the nicest way possible. “As a matter-of-fact…I’m pretty sure I told you to stop bothering me. Sound familiar?”
He is so full of it. Almost all the girls here are dying for him to be their next boyfriend, and I’m sure the guys think he’s just swell, so finding someone to sit with shouldn’t be a problem for him in any possible way.
“I remember.” He offers a curt nod. “But I can’t do that.”
I purse my lips at that. “Can’t? Or won’t?”
“I just feel like it’s going to be hard for us to be friends if I leave you alone,” he replies with a slight shrug, “ya know? How would that work?”
I freely scoff. “Who said anything about us being friends?”
“You did.”
Uhhhh…in what world?
“No, I didn’t,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes. “I never said anything about us being friends.”
Because, duh, why would I?
“Well, technically that is true,” he agrees, unfazed by my accusatory tone, “you never said anything about us being friends…but I’m pretty sure you did write it. Sound familiar?”
My Dilemma Page 6
