Page 49 of Collided

Maybe helping that pretty girl can help me redeem myself.

11

Hope

“I saw a guy bringing you home last night,” Mom says casually, as she stirs the ladle in the pot.

Oh my God.

She saw Heath.

I can’t lie to her now.

With a shaky breath I say, “Yes.”

She faces me and arches an eyebrow. “Do you know him?”

I grow nervous under her scrutinizing gaze. In the pit of my stomach, I have a bad feeling about this conversation.Abort.

“Yes.”Now this is a lie. I don’t know Heath. Not really.

“How come? Do you two share any classes?” she asks with an edge to her tone. She’s never seen me with a guy before. Perhaps that’s the reason why she’s suspicious.

“A few.” I sip water to damp my parched throat, but I end up drinking half the glass.

I had no idea lying makes you thirsty.

“So, you went from not having friends to hanging out withboys.”

My mouth opens in shock. There’s nothing going on between us. For Christ’s sake, we’re not even friends.

“It’s not like that. He’sjusta friend.” Okay, so, he isn’t my friend now, but he’s an acquaintance who’ll later become a friend. I’m shadowing the future here.This is bizarre.

“Friend.I see how it is.” She dries her hands with a washcloth hanging on the oven handle then turns to me. “I don’t want that boy around you. Stay away from him. Guys like him want nothing but sex.”

Heath would never want that from me. From what I’ve seen he minds his own business. Girls don’t intrigue him. He never bats an eye at them.

“I don’t think he’s like that.” I surprise myself by defending him.

“You aren’t sure, and you can’t be, because you don’t know it, Hope.” With a sigh she takes a seat at the table and drinks a glass of Scotch that she bought last night. Drinking has become a norm for her since dad left. “I’m not saying don’t make friends but be careful. Even if you want to be around him, just stay friends. No sleepovers or staying out late alone with him.”

I nod.

Mom opens her purse and counts the wad of cash she got as her paycheck. She categorizes it into groceries, bills, college funds, and other things. When she’s done she rubs her temple and chugs down another glass.

“This isn’t much, but I think we’ll be able to make this work. If only I could go to the city and get a good job,” she muses.

The idea of making those bracelets pops into my mind. I plan to go out today and buy the materials.

“I need money to buy a second-hand textbook from the store. Our teacher said it’s a great reference book for those who want to pursue medicine,” I ramble off, feeling horrible on the inside.

I hate lying, but I also can’t tell her about my plan. She won’t understand and call it stupid and the hopeful part of me doesn't want to hear any of that. I’m doing this for me. I can’t back down. I don’t want to.

“Sure,” she quickly agrees and hands me the bills.

I hold the money tightly to my chest. “Thank you.”

“It’s all right, sweetie. If you need more let me know.” She brings the bottle to her mouth instead of using the glass and I just know it’s going to be a long night.

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