Page 45 of The Devil Wears Tartan

She’s pulled up the channel selection on the TV, the sounds of the local weather station filling the room. I head for the door, thinking that’ll be the end of it, but as soon as I start pulling my shoes on, she calls my name.

“Kenzie, wait. Please don’t go.”

My heart lurches, and I swallow down a lump in my throat. I walk back to stand at the end of the couch.

“I really have to, Mom. This is important. I need that scholarship money. We need that money. It will just be a few hours. You can wait on the couch until I’m back.”

Her eyes shift around the room as she whispers, “I really don’t want to be alone.”

Her words squeeze like a fist around my heart, even as the rest of me fights against the urge to yell and tell her maybe this wouldn’t be a problem if she hadn’t given up on her new pills after a grand total of ten days. I clasp my shaking hands behind my back so she won’t see.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m late. I have to go.”

“Kenzie!” She sits up, her eyes getting wide with panic. “I just...I can’t...Please.”

She drops her voice to a whisper again on the last word. When her shoulders start to tremble, I almost drop onto the spot she made for me at the end of the couch, ready to text Catherine and say I won’t be coming in today.

I’d have to text Moira too. It’s our video reveal today. I missed the editing session we planned because of a day with my mom just like the one I’m facing now, so I haven’t even seen the full version of our interview yet.

Judging by Moira’s one word reply when I told her I had a ‘thing’ and couldn’t make it to her house, she thinks I’m avoiding her after what went down at her house a couple weeks ago.

If I was handling this the way I know I should, I really would be avoiding her. That stupid brownie fight at the Tartan Tea never would have happened. Neither would the dancing around to Nickelback, or the moment in her car in the parking lot.

Whatever is happening between us, it’s a distraction, and I should make it stop.

There’s only one scholarship, and it’s going to be mine.

It has to be.

“Please, Zee-zee,” my mom keeps begging. “Just fifteen minutes? I didn’t know you were leaving. Can you just stay a bit longer? I’ll be fine in fifteen minutes.”

It’s never just fifteen minutes.

I know the fear and forgetfulness aren’t her fault. This isn’t her talking; it’s her illness, but the corners of my eyes still prick with heat as the frustration builds and builds inside me.

I turn around and grab my phone out of my purse by the door.

“I’ll call Chris,” I say as I unlock the screen.

He probably won’t answer, and if he does, he’ll probably be too hungover to move.

I try to ignore the little clock in the corner of my screen letting me know how late I already am as I bring the phone up to my ear.

It rings for so long I expect his voicemail to come on when I hear a click, but instead, I hear Chris’s laugh, muffled like he’s got his hand over the phone as some shuffling sounds come through before he greets me.

“Kenzie! My favourite ex!”

My whole body is tensed with stress and anger, but the sound of his voice and the way he laughs at that dumb joke he’s made a million times before still has me grinning.

“Hey, Chris.”

“Haven’t heard from you in a while, lil’ sis.”

The grin slides right off my face as I think about telling him he’s left my last text on read for two weeks.

I don’t have time to get into that though, and just like with my mom’s illness, Chris’s issues aren’t his fault. His dad isn’t exactly a stellar person, and Chris got in with the wrong crowd after moving out way too young. He tried to put himself through trade school a few years ago, but it cost too much, and his old mess of parties and pills and god knows what else sucked him back up.

Part of me is terrified that if my plans for the future go off track for even a semester, I’ll get sucked into something bad too, something I won’t be able to pull myself out of.

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