When he looked up and met my eyes—he knew. I could see it. Hell, he’d probably always known.
“I took her to rehab last night,” I murmured, sitting on a stool waiting for his response.
He shrugged, turning to grab a glass of orange juice.
“How long have you known?”
“It’s not the first time, you know. Mom found ‘em one time. Mandy gave her a bullshit story, said they were herbal vitamins. They helped her body restore her metabolism, or some shit like that.”
“She believed her?” I asked quietly.
“Wouldn’t you? Your perfect straight-A daughter on Honor Roll, taking fucking speed?” He shrugged, eating his Pop-Tart. “Of course Mom believed her. Mom’ll believe anything, if it sounds somewhat reasonable.”
The kid was too smart, way too smart for his own good.
“For what it’s worth, it wasn’t speed. It was Vitamin R. That’s Ritalin.”
“Whatever. She’s been on ‘em forever,” he grumbled, stuffing a Lunchable in his backpack.
“Austin,” I stopped him as he walked past me for the door, “what are you doing this weekend?” I heard a car engine and I figured his friends were waiting for him.
“I’ll be at Dustin’s for the next week. Then I’ll be at Paul’s after that.”
“Okay.”
He rolled his eyes and left, but stopped in the doorway. He turned halfway around and said, “Look—”
I waited.
“Forget it.” He shrugged his shoulders and was off again, the door slamming behind him.
Well. That was refreshing, like always.
It took me an hour to clean Mandy’s room, but it was done half-heartedly. I wanted stuff put away so it wasn’t such an eye-sore. I knew Mandy would be changing everything anyway when she returned home. It’d have to be perfect and I knew there was no way I’d get it right by her standards.
I was in my room, packing, when my phone rang.
“Hey,” I answered, knowing it was Tray.
“I’m ready to go,” he announced. He sounded disgustingly, cheerful.
“Wanna drive over and pick me up?”
“Turning down your street.” He hung up and a second later I heard a car pull into the driveway.
Then the backdoor opened and I heard footsteps on the stairs and hallway.
When he turned the corner, I had my bag packed.
“Hi.” I smiled, relieved that my boyfriend was here to do his boyfriend duty and carry my bags.
Tray raked a hand through his hair, staring at the pile in front of him. “That all?”
“Yep.”
Tray groaned, but knelt and picked up my two bags and pillow. He shifted and looked at me. “What else?”
“I got it.” I only had my backpack, filled with homework. Never hurt to be prepared for anything, and boredom was something I needed to prepare for. I’m not stupid, I know Tray would want some time with his friends—or in truth—it’d be his friends storming our room, demanding Tray to come out and play.