Page 81 of The Do-Over

“Beth.” His breath hissed through his teeth. “You are out of your mind if you think Em forgetting to text me is grounds for an amendment.”

From upstairs, and through the monitor on the kitchen table, Logan’s sleepy wail rang out. Lisa glared at both of my parents for a second but then swung her gaze to me, accusing me of once again screwing everything up before she stood and marched up the stairs.

Logan’s cry got louder through the monitor, and the three of us kind of just stared at it for a second, listening.

“Come on, Emilie.” My mom had her keys in her hand. “We’re leaving.”

“Um.” I cleared my throat. “I’ll be right out. I just need to grab one more thing.”

“You have one minute.”

She went out the door, and I turned to my dad. “I’ll talk to her. I’ll make her—”

He held up a hand. “Just go before she comes back in.”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

He finally looked me in the eyes, and there was so much disappointment on his face that tears blurred my vision. He swallowed and his mouth was sad when he said, “You have no idea what you just did, kid.”

As soon as we got to my mom’s house, she launched into a forty-five-minute tirade about how irresponsible I was. Apparentlyshewasn’t concerned about her husband or puggle sleeping, because she yelled the house down.

She took my phone and told me I was more grounded than anyone had ever been. No friends, no phone, no library, no car—I was essentially under house arrest. I could walk to school and back and that was it.

She grounded me from reading.

Seriously.

“I removed all the books from your bedroom, and don’t even think about checking anything out from the library.” She’d crossed her arms and looked disgusted by me when she said, “It’s a bizarre thing for a parent to have to do, but I think you’d be happy in solitary confinement if you had a book to read.”

She changed the Wi-Fi password so I couldn’t go online at all, and she told me she’d called Boystown to get all the details on how to send a “troubled” child to live there for a while. I knew she was just blowing smoke, but when my mom got in a rage you just never knew what she’d do.

And I couldn’t blame her for being mad. I mean, Ihadcrashed at grandma’s without telling anyone, making them freak out and worry and spend hours calling everyone I knew.

I went to bed, but sleep was elusive. There was so much pinging around in my brain that the power button was totally stuck in the on position.

First of all, I couldn’t stop wonderingwhy. Why had I experienced that cosmic anomaly, that it-isn’t-possible movie-plot repeating of days? Because as much as I wanted to sweep itunder the rug as a blip, the reality was that it had happened.

It had.

Whether it was an altered state of consciousness—like a drug interaction or some bizarrely long dream—or the real thing, I had experienced multiple Valentine’s Days.

I wasn’t delusional.

So…why?

I tossed and turned for a while, but worrying over what had caused my bizarre experience was ultimately overshadowed by the enormous sense of impending doom. Because with every passing minute, I remembered something else—something awful—that I’d done on the DONC. Things I’d done, words I’d spoken, people I’d surely pissed off.

How was I going to go to school in the morning?

Was there a way to change my appearance so no one would recognize me? Could I switch schools before tomorrow morning? I buried my face in my pillow and groaned because, short of a violent accident, there was no way my mother would give me a break on school.

And that wasn’t an exaggeration.

I could be projectile vomiting in the morning and she’d tell me that I should just grab a Ziploc to spew into during my classes.Every time you hurl, Emilie, think about how you could’ve avoided this situation. It’ll be a good lesson.

There was no way of getting out of it. I was going to have to go to school and be destroyed by the entire student body of Hazelwood High School. Lauren, Lallie, and Nicole were going to annihilateme in some sort of public spectacle, and no one in the entire school was foolish enough to jeopardize their own social status by going against those girls to support me.

Everyone else would pile on to save their own asses. And who could blame them?

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