Wild Girl (Slateview High 2)

. It was nothing more than a need for security and wealth. An attempt to cling to what she’d once had.

Shaking my head, I snapped the book I’d been trying to read shut. I couldn’t concentrate on fiction when my reality was already so insane I could barely handle it. Mom was gone for the winter holiday. School was out, exams over, snow was falling outside, and I was in here, moping.

I rolled over onto my stomach and grabbed my phone off the rickety nightstand.

ME: Hey, wanna come over? I’m bored.

It didn’t take too long before he answered.

BISHOP: Oh? You wanna be entertained? ;)

ME: Hush. Just come over. Bring the guys with you.

I pushed off my bed, fluffing my hair a little so it looked less like bedhead and more like “it’s messy because I did it on purpose.”

It didn’t take long for the boys to arrive; they’d probably all been at Bishop’s already. I let them in almost as soon as the knock came at the door, not even caring how eager it made me look.

“You know, I kinda half expected your mom to be here waiting again,” Bishop said lightly as they walked in, dropping a kiss to my lips. “But I guess her being MIA lately is a good thing for us. We gonna need to bounce later?”

I hadn’t told them about my mom leaving yet, and a fresh wave of anger rose up in me as I thought about how she’d just taken off, leaving me alone for the holiday. I shook my head.

“No. She’s not going to be a problem over break.”

Bish raised a brow as we all plopped down in the living room. “Oh?”

He was waiting for an explanation, but I wasn’t sure it was something he, or any of the boys, for that matter, would want to hear about. After all, drama with my mom wasn’t exactly something that most guys would want to listen to. They’d already done so much helping out after her overdose.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “She’s just spending the holiday… away.”

They exchanged a look. Misael poked at me from his place on the floor in front of the couch, where he rested between my legs.

“Come on. Somethin’s obviously on your mind, Coralee,” he said. “What’s going on with your mom?”

I hadn’t intended to tell them. I hadn’t intended to tell anyone. But with the three of them gazing at me, eyes warm and serious, I couldn’t stop myself.

I explained everything, from what I had come home to the other day, to how my mom tried to justify it, to the fact that she was spending the entire holiday on vacation with a married man. I told them how mad it made me, how frustrated and… sad.

“It’s like I don’t even know her like I thought I did,” I whispered. “It’s like she’s a completely different person from the woman who raised me—” I laughed bitterly. “Well. Never mind. It isn’t like she actually did much raising. Not like that matters. I just don’t know how I can look her in the face anymore. After her lies to me, her lies to my father? It’s disgusting that she would throw out years of marriage just for something like… like… like a car and a winter vacation!”

They let me rant, and I was grateful for that. I needed it. I needed to let it out, because my argument with my mom damn sure hadn’t satisfied my need to work out my irritation with her.

When I finally ran out of words, there was a long moment of silence. Worry dropped in the pit of my stomach, and I bit my lip.

“That was probably a lot to take in. I’m sorry, I—”

“No, it ain’t that. It’s just—damn, that’s real shitty, Cora.” Misael turned around to face me, sitting back on his heels and shaking his head. “I mean, what your mom is doing. What she said to you.”

Bishop pulled me into his hold, threading his fingers through my hair. I leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as he brushed through the blonde strands.

“Y’know, when we first met you, we thought you would be like that,” he murmured. “Just using whoever you could to get what you wanted. Thinkin’ it was fine because of where you came from. But… Coralee, you’re nothin’ like your mom. We—”

He paused, his grip on me tightening slightly, taking on the possessive edge that I loved so much.

“There’s a lot that we coulda done different when we first met you,” Misael said, picking up the train of Bishop’s thought. “But… we don’t regret meetin’ you. And we sure as shit don’t regret having you stick around like you are. We need you. Even if you are a spoiled little rich girl.”

When I looked down at him, he was grinning at me, the tilt of his lips boyish, teasing, and tender.

I smiled.