Page 69 of Bad Boys Don’t Date Clumsy Girls

Chapter Twenty-Six

The next morning, I’m awoken by yelling. My mind won’t process what I’m hearing. At first, I assume it’s Grandma and Mom at it again, but the tone is too urgent. And I keep hearing my name and Joel’s.

Then I realize it’s Mom yelling for us. I stumble out of bed and run into Joel, who’s just burst from his room, too. He gets to Mom’s room first and skids to a halt at her bedside.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I’ve pissed in my bed! Didn’t anyone take me to the bathroom last night?” Mom’s voice is a little slurred, but mostly it’s way louder than I would think someone who just had their head cut open should be able to yell.

Joel looks at me, and I shrug and shake my head. “She never said she needed to.”

My brother’s expression shutters, and suddenly he’s all business. “Let’s get you cleaned off and changed. Ava, you help Mom to the bathroom and use a washcloth to clean her off.” He strides to her dresser and pulls out another pair of pajamas. “Make sure she’s nice and dry before you put these clothes on her. Mom, if you have to poop, do it now while you’re out of bed. I’ll change your bedding while you get cleaned up.”

I blush at his matter-of-fact mention of Mom’s physical needs. But then I notice Mom is totally calm while she listens. What’s that all about? But if Mom isn’t embarrassed, then why should I be? Tossing the pajamas over my shoulder, I brace myself to pull Mom to a standing position. She grasps my hands, grits her teeth and using steady force, I pull until she’s standing on two feet. She’s panting, so I know it hurts, but she doesn’t complain. When she appears steady, I steer her out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom.

Stripping off her clothes, I’m mortified to see my mom’s bare body. Tossing the soiled clothes into the bathtub to deal with later, I force myself to stay as businesslike as Joel while I dampen a washcloth and wipe down her legs. She shivers.

“Sorry, this shouldn’t take long,” I say. My hands shake, belying my calm demeanor. Dressing her is awkward. She must sit on the closed toilet in order to lift a foot so I can slip a pant leg on. Then she wobbles when she stands again, complaining about being dizzy. I have visions of her falling and hitting her already fragile head on the bathtub or something. My hands shake even more. The pajama top is one that slides over her head. I’m afraid I’m going to jostle her or pull the bandages off as I pull the shirt down, but her head pops through the hole unaffected. “Do you have to use the toilet, Mom?”

I see her cheeks redden and wonder if she feels some responsibility for the accident even though she blamed us. She shakes her head, so I lead her back to her room where Joel is just finishing up changing pillowcases.

Since Mom is awake, I decide to make her breakfast. Joel tromps downstairs to put the soiled clothes in the wash. As I whip some eggs and milk, I hear Grandma yell at Joel for waking her up. I don’t hear him respond. Staying calm seems to work well with Grandma; I’ll have to try that. I pour the eggs into the hot pan and pop a piece of bread into the toaster. When it is all done, I plate it and take it upstairs. Mom is nodding off but wakes again when I come into the room.

“That smells good,” she says. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“A few things. Nothing fancy.” I set the plate on the table so that I can prop her with more pillows, then I hand her the plate. “I’m going to hop into the shower. Will you be okay?”

She shovels a forkful of egg into her mouth like she’s starving. “I’ll be fine, honey. Thanks.”

I double-take at the endearment. This Mom is definitely not a Mom I’ve ever known before. I wonder if she will stick around long. Even though Mom woke us up early, by the time I’m stepping into the shower, I’m running behind schedule to get to school on time. I take a fast shower and throw my hair in a ponytail. I slide on some leggings and an oversized sweatshirt and stuff my books into my backpack.

“Text me our plan for the 2:00 pm shift,” I call, as I race out down the stairs. Joel doesn’t answer, so it’s likely he doesn’t hear me. Maybe he went back to sleep.

I speed walk to Sam’s car. She’s been waiting for a good five minutes, but seems completely unperturbed. We arrive at school with time to spare. Sam and I split off as soon as we enter the school I smile when I see Dylan leaning against the lockers near mine. How does he already know where my locker is?

He pushes to a stand when he sees me, his eyes squint, and his mouth purses as he examines me. “Rough night?”

I roll my eyes. “No, just this morning. Joel and I don’t really know what we’re doing, and Mom was either too drugged to tell us what she needs, or she was just being difficult. I don’t know. But we’re making it work.” I bite my lip when I think about the 2:00 pm pill dose that we don’t have covered. Who am I kidding? We aren’t making anything work.

“What’s that face for? That is not a making it work face.” Dylan twirls his finger in a circle to indicate my entire face.

I smile. “I just remembered something we haven’t figured out yet. So, maybe we aren’t as good as I hoped.”

“What is it?”

“For the first couple of days, we have to give her pain meds every six hours. We have all the shifts covered except the afternoon shift. It’s such a waste that we can’t ask Grandma to help.”

“I can do it,” Dylan offers matter-of-factly.

“No, because you have school at 2:00 in the afternoon just like we do.”

Dylan looks around and then leans close to whisper. “The teachers, the ladies in the office, they all know I have a lot of trouble at home and have come to expect me to come and go as needed. As long as my grades stay up, they don’t give me any trouble. I really can do this.”

The memory of Principal Crowder smiling at Dylan before she yelled at him that day comes to mind. Ah! But still. Dylan in my house? I gnaw my lip, considering how weird it would be to take him up on it. “You don’t even know my mom.”

He shrugs. “I’m just giving her pills, right?”

I pull out my phone and text Joel.

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