Page 91 of It's in the Contract
“Then Brielle got what she wanted,” I say miserably.
“It’s not over yet,” Suzy says. She traces a crease on the hospital sheet. We both know we’re out of ideas.
“Suzy, I—” I swallow. “I have something to tell you.” It’s time to come clean. About the contract, about my feelings for Zeke, all of it. I’m sick of keeping secrets from my friend.
Suzy leans forward, her lips turning down into a frown. “Okay.”
Mom bursts into the room, her ponytail slicked to her head from the rain. Her hot pink workout leggings are drenched. “Oh my gosh, Callie. Are you okay? What happened? Tell me everything!” She takes the seat that Zeke just vacated.
Suzy stands to leave. “I’m so sorry, Cal, but I have to go home. Text me if you need anything, and I’ll be here in a heartbeat. Well, thirty minutes.”
I smile. “Thanks, Suze.”
“You can call me later and tell me what you were going to say.”
I feel sick, and I don’t know if it’s from the meds or from the confession I was about to make, now put off for even longer. I can’t take this anymore. But I also don’t want to tell her over the phone. I’ll just have to stop by . . . whenever I can.
Thirty-Six
This video is hilarious! Repost.
Instagram caption by @snarkygirl24.
I sighinto the bubble bath. The water is just on the side of too hot, right where I like it, and lavender scented bubbles are foamy on my skin. My wrapped foot is propped up on the edge of the tub, out of the water.
I’ve been cleared to be home with instructions to ice and elevate my foot and keep my weight off of it as best as I can. I’ve got a crutch propped on my bed, and hobbling around is not going to be fun. Healing should take two weeks, so with any luck I’ll be dancing by Homecoming.
When I finally get out and awkwardly pull on a pair of cheer sweats and a Monte Ville High t-shirt, a knock sounds on my door.
“Come in.”
Mom opens the door and pokes her head in the room. “How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good after the bath.” My foot aches, and I hop over to my bed and do a single-leg squat so I can sit down. Butter barksand waddles over from her bed to hop up onto mine. Mom gives her a side-eye but doesn’t say anything.
“I made you breakfast,” Mom says, holding up the tray she’s carrying.
“You cooked?” I ask, laying back onto propped pillows. Butter rests her head on my leg, and I stroke her soft fur.
“Hey, I can cook when I want to.” Mom sets the tray on my lap, and I open the lid. Turkey bacon, an egg white omelet, and a protein shake greet me. She even sliced up an orange and arranged the slices into swirls.
“Thanks, Mom.” I dig in, and if the omelet is a bit rubbery and the bacon soggy, I don’t mind. I take a sip of protein shake. Salted caramel, my favorite flavor. She even blended it up with a frozen banana how I like. I know because there are still chunks of frozen banana.
Mom sits on the edge of my bed and watches me eat.
I set down the shake. “Have you eaten already?” I hate how things feel awkward between us.
“Yes. Do you need anything else?” She stands.
“A few Ibuprofen, maybe?” My ankle is throbbing.
Mom nods. “Be right back.”
I lay back and close my eyes. It’s Saturday, and I’m looking forward to a day of doing nothing. When Mom comes back with the Ibuprofen, I take it.
“I’m going to take this chunky girl for a walk,” Mom says, hauling Butter off the bed. “Call me if you need me, okay?”
I will. Mom lugs Butter from the room, and I can’t help but laugh. She closes the door on her way out.
