Page 71 of Tell Me When It's Over

He and Striker made it an everyday occurrence to sit with us at lunch so people couldn’t bother me. Something that took Nora and I both by surprise. My friendship with my outspoken bestie didn’t wane even though she’d been upset I kept my newfound family a secret, because she’d understood. She always did, which didn’t make me feel any better because I knew I could trust her and still kept quiet.

“Morning,” Beckham says first, pushing off the locker and helping me with my uniform blazer. Nora teases me about him when we’re alone because I’ve developed a small crush on him since he’s been hanging around. He chases off nasty girls who make comments about how I’m not “Bishop” material, and the guys who catcall and say they didn’t get a chance at Mia, so they’d settle for me. I’ve never told Kyler the things people have said because I know he’ll get upset and overreact. The last thing I want is for him to storm the school and demand something be done, because then I’ll be a narc on top of a “fake wannabe” like I’ve been labeled.

Beckham says the same thing every time he sees me flinch from the harsh words. “They’re just jealous.” But the reasoning doesn’t make me feel any better.

The day goes as smoothly as possible, and I choose not to bother Mia with the silly question that’s nagging the back of my mind. Nora can tell something is wrong by the last bell though, so she pulls me aside in the girl’s bathroom so the boys won’t hear. “What’s going on with you today? Is it about what Striker suggested at lunch?”

Striker had brought up all of us hanging out and studying for finals together since we’re all struggling with a course or two, which shouldn’t be a big deal, except I’ve never hung out with friends, especially not friends who are older like the boys are. Not even Nora. Kyler told me I could invite her over to the house, but I’ve liked keeping my school and home life separate. Now that the big secret is out, it shouldn’t matter if Nora sees the huge house I live in, or the giant pool outback that Ky, Mia, and I spend a lot of time in when it gets hot. I’m not built for group activities, and Striker and Beckham would only make things more awkward because they’d probably want to utilize everything the Bishops have when I’m the opposite.

“It’s not that.” Frowning, I lean against the row of sin

ks with my back to the mirrors. “I got asked something about Mia this morning on my way to school, and I don’t know what to do.”

“By like paparazzi or something?”

I nod. “Reporter.”

“What’d they say?”

Deciding it’s better to tell someone, I give her a quick breakdown of my morning. The silly lifestyle questions aren’t new. For some reason, people want to know every detail about the Bishop clan, right down to what kind of socks they wear and what laundry detergent they use. By the time I’m done, Nora gives me a funny look that I can’t decipher. “What?”

She shrugs after a while. “I mean, what if it is true? People do stuff like that all the time. There isn’t anything you can do about it.”

“You don’t think I should tell her?”

“I’m sure she already knows that’s what people are saying.” My best friend has a point, but my stomach feels funny by burying it. “What do you think can be done if you say something? I’m sure someone has already told you that the press will release whatever they want for a quick buck. Remember that story on one of the English royals? They’re always printing stuff about her even if the palace makes statements and stuff saying it’s not true. If I were you, I’d let it go.”

Let it go. I can try, I guess.

Nora loops her arm around mine. “Back to the boys. Do you think your mom will let you hang out at Beckham’s house? It seems like his place is the most reasonable one to meet up at since Cooper and his friends are always at mine being obnoxious, and you keep your place locked down like Fort Knox.”

I cringe, knowing she’s still sort of upset about that even though she tells me she isn’t. “I don’t think my mom will have a problem with me hanging out with you guys.”

It’s Kyler who might. Maybe even Harry. I’m not sure if he’s playing the protective father role, or if he genuinely cares, but he’s told me to be careful when I go out, and asks me how my day is when he gets home from work, making sure nobody bothered me. It’s…nice. Mom doesn’t always do that, so it’s foreign coming from the man who I’ve known for far less time.

Nora leans in. “I think I like Striker. I know he’s older, but we’ll all be in high school this fall, so it won’t be so bad.”

My eyes widen. “Does he like you back?”

Her eyes roll. “I don’t know yet. But, I mean, he flirts with me all the time. Just like Beckham does with you.”

Stomach fluttering, I shake my head and push the bathroom door open. “No, he doesn’t. He’s just being nice.”

“Lenny,” she laughs. “He’s being nice because he likes you. He hangs out with us because he likes you. Spoiler alert, he invited us to his house because he—”

“I get your point,” I cut her off, face flaming as people look in our direction. We walk side by side, arms still wound together, as we head to our lockers for our things. The boys have practice, so it’s just us. “Is your mom coming to get you since Cooper is at practice?”

Her nose scrunches. “Nah. I’m supposed to wait for him. Unless…” She eyes me, eyelashes batting, and I give her a sad frown.

“My mom is supposed to pick me up,” I tell her cautiously. I can barely count on her to remember me, much less a friend.

“Oh.” She frowns. “Kyler doesn’t pick you up? I thought Beckham said he did.”

I blink. Beckham told her that? I didn’t know they talked about me when I’m not around. “Ky came once because my mom…” I cringe, not wanting to relive that day. “He only did that once. It’s not really safe for him to come here since people recognize his car. Plus, he’s busy.”

The disappointment is clear on her face, but she shrugs it off, closes her locker a little forcefully, and says, “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” before walking down the hall.

I want to tell her I’m sorry, say anything to get her to understand that Mom isn’t the dependable kind, but I don’t. Telling people that I’m embarrassed of my mother makes me the worst kind of daughter, but it’s the truth. And after living so many lies since attending Saint Michael’s, it feels good to admit.

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