Page 60 of Bad Boys Don’t Date Clumsy Girls

Chapter Twenty-Three

Bleary-eyed and testy as all get out, I stumble through the front doors of the school. Our talk with Grandma went about as expected with her blaming Mom for the brain tumors and indicating that her ungrateful offspring can sit and rot in her bedroom after she gets home from the hospital for all she cares. Since there was no use talking to her about it further, Joel and I told her she wouldn’t need to worry about Mom and asked if she could just make sure the grocery shopping was done, which earned us a lecture about how no one pitches in to help pay for food and that she’s sick of being the only one to take care of the household chores—total exaggeration. When I finally got back to my room, my homework kept me up late and then I tossed and turned most of the night imagining a million different scenarios with me ending up homeless in most of them.

Talking through things with Joel helped ease my guilt over not caring that Mom is sick, but I’ve got major anxiety about being a caregiver to someone who just had brain surgery. I have no clue how to care for someone with a cold, let alone someone who just had their head cut open.

Relief washes through me when I find Bek sitting in her seat already, staring dreamily at the whiteboard, I almost throw my arms around her in greeting. I haven’t had a chance to tell the girls what’s going on with Mom, and I’m bursting to share my anxieties. As I whisper a short version of the day before, Bek’s eyes grow wider and wider.

“Oh my gosh, Ava,” she says. “I’m so sorry. How’s your mom doing? Is she scared?”

I purse my lips as I consider if I can answer that question or not. Do I know how my mom feels about it? Guilt pulses inside me that we never even thought to call Mom after the doctor gave us the news. But then I remind myself for the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours that it isn’t my fault that I have been conditioned to avoid her.

“I don’t know, actually,” I answer. “By the time Joel and I were done discussing it and then telling Grandma, it was really late. We haven’t talked to Mom yet.” I see Miss Hess moving toward the board, so I hurry to add, “I’m really scared about taking care of her after she comes home though.”

Bek reaches across the aisle to grab my hand. “I’m sure you are. I’ll help.”

My eyes almost pop out of my head at the thought of Bek inside my house feeding my mom chicken soup or something. “No, you don’t have to do that.”

My friend levels a knowing look at me. “We’ll see.”

Between classes, I trudge through the hall like a zombie. I’ve been checking my phone obsessively to see if Joel has heard when the surgery will be. I’m distracted, so my shoulder rams a girl as we pass and I automatically apologize, while wondering if Joel and I will have to miss more than one day of school for Mom’s surgery.

A hand grips my arm and I look down at it with confusion. Is someone steering me? As soon as I think that, I step on a foot and run face-first into them.

“Oof,” Dylan says, wrinkling and stretching his nose. His eyes are watering, so I’m guessing the tender spot on my forehead is from a collision with his nose.

“Sorry,” I say.

“I’m guessing you didn’t hear anything I said to you?” he asks.

I jut my chin out. “You were talking to me?”

“Is everything okay?” he asks. “You were already gone by the time I followed you. Chloe said it was something to do with your mom.”

“Oh, yeah.” Suddenly, I’m blushing with the memory of the conversation we were having and what I was about to admit to him. In all the drama, I’d completely forgotten about it. “My mom is in the hospital. She’s going to have surgery to remove a couple of brain tumors.”

“Is she going to be okay?”

I don’t know how to answer that question any better than I could tell Bek if my mom was afraid of the upcoming surgery. I shrug. “The doctor says that these surgeries are pretty standard and that she should end up just fine.”

“Do you have enough help at home? I know when my mom was sick, it was rough. If it weren’t for our next-door neighbor—Lydia’s mom—it would have been way worse.”

I realize, not for the first time, how little I know about Dylan’s home life. But if his dad dating the woman that helped care for his sick mom is any indication, it’s probably pretty screwed up. “Your mom was sick?”

A shadow passes over his face. “Yeah, she had cancer.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It sucked. It still sucks. But it sounds like your mom has a good prognosis. That’s great.”

I don’t know if it’s because he just shared something so personal or what, but suddenly I’m blurting my innermost fears to him. “My mom’s an alcoholic and my grandma, who lives with us, is pretty much over having to take care of Joel and me since our mother never has. I really can’t imagine how this is going to work when Mom is home recovering. Grandma refuses to help. Neither Joel nor I know how to take care of someone like that.”

I slam my mouth closed because…why, exactly, did I just spew all of that?

Dylan’s brow knits with concern. “I remember being scared of having to take care of Mom, too. My dad has a gambling problem and he’ll disappear for days sometimes when he’s on a bender. The hospital can help a lot though. They have all sorts of handouts that describe what should be done, and they usually have people who will answer questions related to your mom’s condition. Definitely use the resources they point you to.”

My mouth opens to thank him, but I close it again. I can’t get over the fact that he has a really crappy home life, too. We have more in common than I ever would have guessed. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

He blinks as if the question is a surprise. “No, just me.”

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