Page 63 of Cruel Elite (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 3)

She hustles up the stairs, a new pep in her step. I can’t help but smile softly.

Not my usual style, either.

But it feels good.

22

Noah

Drive thru hamburger wrappers and fry containers litter the floorboard of Mom’s SUV. We each have a box of movie candy from the concessions stand in our hands.

If it was football season, I know I’d be regretting all the junk food at practice the next day.

But it’s not football season.

It won’t ever be football season again.

That phase of my life is over.

Caleb and J.C. have been nostalgic all semester so far, talking about everything they’ll miss. Until now, I didn’t have anything to add to the list.

But I will miss football.

And I’ll miss my mom.

You can’t say that out loud without being roasted into oblivion, but it’s true. Mostly, I’ll miss knowing she’s okay.

For two years, I’ve loathed seeing her cry and get so drunk she passed out.

But at least I knew she was alive.

At least I knew she was able to get out of bed and go to work before she crumpled into a ball all night.

Once I’m gone, who knows what will happen?

Right now, for instance, I can look over and see that my mom has snuck a few glugs of whatever is in her flask into her large soda.

But she’s trying.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, she’s genuinely trying to keep her shit together and have a nice time with me.

That is fucking progress.

“Donald O’Connor did this scene so many times and with so much passion that he actually broke some ribs and had to go to the hospital right after filming,” she informs me.

Mom is lip-syncing along with the old musical numbers and sharing trivia facts with me when she remembers one.

She used to watch them a lot when I was growing up, turning TCM on the television and letting it run all day while she cleaned.

She hasn’t done that in a long time, though.

I can’t blame her.

I gave up a lot of things, too—my guitar being one of them.

“What do you think about performing as a career choice?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“I think it’s a hard industry to crack into,” she says. “Though maybe not quite so much these days. The Internet has opened everything up. Why?”

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