Page 39 of The Second Kiss
Mom finally looks at me. “Jess, inside. We need to talk. Jacob–”
“I’ll go get started on the car. I don’t have much time,” Jacob is already moving away. Maybe he sense the tension.
“Thanks Jacob, I–” but Mom shuts the door before I can finish.
She turns on me. “What’s going on here? The truth.” Her voice softens and that scares me more than the anger that was there before. I get the idea that she's more afraid than mad. “I got a call from the counselor at the high school. She told me something about you having an abusive boyfriend, some guy from base? I told her you don’t have a boyfriend, and she started lecturing meabout parents always being the last to know. I've given that same line to other parents. I never imagined I'd have it thrown back at me. I was sure she was wrong, but then you show up with Jacob, looking like...” she looks me over again, “like this. Please tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is, I just want to help.”
“It’s not what it looks like.” I lean against the wall for support. My arm hurts; my head hurts. I’m exhausted and frustrated, and I want to cry, but if I do, I’m sure she’ll decide the counselor was right and Jacob will be banned from our house forever. “It's a stupid rumor that started at school because I walked in with a broken wrist, but you know how that happened. I didn’t feel good after I talked to the counselor, and I just wanted to go home. I didn't want to make you leave work, so I walked. Jacob saw me on the road and stopped to pick me up. When I turned around to see who was following me, I tripped and fell in a ditch.”
She stares at me for a long time, like she’s trying to decide whether she's one of those 'last to know' parents. “I guess I believe you; it's just…" She brushes a lock of hair off my cheek. “There’s something different about you. Something's going on that..." I work to keep my expression neutral as she continues. "I noticed it a while ago, even before Jacob showed up, but senior year can be so hard, and you’ve been so busy, I thought maybe it was that.” She stares at me for a long moment, like she’s trying to read my mind. “But I keep getting this nagging feeling that there’s more. You know you can tell me anything. Right?”
I hold my breath. For a second I consider telling Mom everything–about Brad and the party and the drink that may or may not have been drugged. About how since then he's alternately played my chief tormentor and the wounded ex-boyfriend trying to win me back. About how I don't know what kind of game he's playing, but I know it won't end well.
I can’t. She’d make a big deal about it, insist on going to Brad’s parents or the school, maybe even the police. That would just make everything worse. She’s waiting for a big revelation, but I can see in her eyes that she hopes she’s wrong, and that I'm fine and everything is normal.
I give her what she wants. “Nothing big, just school and work and trying to figure out life after high school. Isn’t that enough?”
She hesitates, hovering between uncertainty and relief. “I guess it is.” She hugs me for a long moment and then pulls away and looks into my eyes. I pray she doesn’t see anything there. She pushes me toward my room. "Go. Get cleaned up and then take a nap, you look like you could use it."
nineteen
Repaired
Sunlight pressing behind my curtains pulls me out of a deep sleep. My body feels stiff and sore as I roll over. Sparks of pain shoot up my arm as I untangle my broken wrist from the covers and reach for my phone to check the time. It's nearly ten o'clock. Panic hits me. I overslept, missed the bus, missed everything. I can't believe that neither my alarm nor my mom woke me up.
I jump up, frantically searching for something to wear. I can make it for at least part of the day. I can… Then I remember I don't have a way to get to school, unless I want to walk again. Islump back in my bed. Maybe Mom took pity on me and let me sleep. More likely, she left for work early and assumed I'd make it to the bus. If that’s what happened, I’m in trouble.
There's a soft knock on my bedroom door.
I stare at it for a second, my heart pounding. The house is always empty on weekday mornings.
A voice comes through the door. "Jess, are you awake?" Jacob's voice is soft, like he doesn't want to wake me up.
As usual, he's the last person I'd expect to be here. I take a second to answer. "Yeah."
“Can I come in?”
I breathe in. “Give me a minute." I pull on a pair of sweats and rake my hair into a ponytail before I open the door.
He leans against the doorframe, not quite coming in. "Are you just getting up?"
It's a stupid question, considering what I look like, but I answer, "I guess I overslept. Mom didn't wake me up or—"
"She said she was going to let you stay home. Something about you needing a break after a bad day yesterday."
"When did she say that?" There's a part of me that feels like this is some weird dream and that any minute I'll wake up to the blaring of my alarm.
"When she left for work," Jacob says.
"You were here when she left for work?" I look at him and take in the rumpled khaki pants and t-shirt and the tug of exhaustion at the corners of his eyes. "You came here right after your shift again last night, didn't you?"
"Yeah," he says it like it's not a big deal, but he stifles a yawn.
"Why?"
“I felt bad that yesterday was such a terrible day, and I wanted to get your car finished before I took off.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of car keys—my car keys. I take a second to understand what he means by that.
“You did it! My car? Is it actually running?”
