Sometimes I don’t feel so bad about my relationship with Henry. Callie isn’t exactly a nice person. Back in elementary school she used to tease me repeatedly because I went through a tomboy phase and I wore boy’s clothes. “Don’t talk to it,” she’d say. “Seriously, what are you?”
I know that’s no excuse. I know that just because Callie is a bitch, her nature doesn’t justify what I’m doing with her boyfriend, but sometimes it makes me feel like I’m finally getting revenge for what she’d done to me all those years ago. But as much as I despise Callie Banfield, she doesn’t deserve this. No one does.
For what feels like days, I stare out the open window in my bedroom, hoping the cool breeze will miraculously send Henry flying through my window like Superman. Minus the cape. Then he’ll climb into my bed like he has so many nights before and hold me. He’ll keep me warm all through the night and I’ll wake up the next morning with his arms around me. Then we’ll kiss for hours and hours until the suns sets in the sky. What a pleasant dream to have and I know that’s all it will ever be, a dream.
****
My alarm goes off and I growl as I feel around for the snooze button.
Nine minutes isn’t enough of a snooze and as the alarm blares again I hit the snooze button a second time and a third and a fourth. By the fifth time, my Mom opens the door and flips the light on. “Riley Elizabeth Davis! Would you stop hitting that snooze button?”
The sound of her heel tapping against the hard wood floor floods my ears and I wrap my pillow around my head and roll over. “Uh, Mom,” I whine. “Come on, ten more minutes. Please.”
Mom flicks the light on and off over and over again. “I don’t think so, missy. Get up. You’re going to be late for school.”
My eyelids flutter and I roll over. I squint at Mom, still disoriented and not fully awake.
Mom is wearing a red tweed suit and she smooths down the skirt to cover her white slip underneath.
I wipe my eyes and yawn. “You showing houses, today?” My Mom is a realtor and spends a lot of time working. She’s always showing houses our hosting open houses for potential buyers.
She fluffs her golden shoulder length bob that glimmers under the light. “Several.” She spins slowly. “Does this suit say sale?”
I don’t verbalize my answer. I simply nod.
She steps away from my door for a second and returns with a lint brush. “You’re going to be on your own tonight for dinner, okay kiddo?” She rolls the lint brush over her arms and down her chest.
I scoot to the edge of my bed. “Cool.”
Mom palms the lint brush. “There’s food in the fridge and I left money on the counter in case you’d rather order pizza.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure thing, kiddo.” She kisses my forehead. “I’ll be home late so don’t wait up.”
“Noted.” Mom waves at me quickly and walks out of my room.
I get ready fast and stalk to my car. I grin, thinking about having the house to myself for a while. I text Henry.
My mom won’t B home 2nite. U can come ovr if U want.
I try to think if texting him this early would be bad. Does he pick up Callie for school? Does she go through his phone? I shrug it off, nah. I can’t remember him ever mentioning anything about that.
But while I’m at my locker, before the warning bell, I realize texting Henry this morning was a bad idea.
He strolls over to me and places one hand on the top of my locker door and the other above my head.
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At first, an exciting, anxious feeling swirls around the pit of my stomach. I bite my bottom lips and smirk. I want him to touch me and in my head I’m singing, my love, my love, my love. Then I get a clear look at his face and I don’t know why I expect anything positive from this random encounter.
Henry never talks to me in school and if he does its only when no one is around or in a secretive place.
He narrows his eyes. I study his body language. He’s tense and wearing an agitated expression. His jaw clenches, his lips form a straight line and there’s a hint of red in the almond complexion. A spark of anger resides in his pale blue eyes.
The smile fades from my lips and I scrunch my eyebrows together. “What’s wrong?”
He glances around warily and runs a hand through his reddish-brown hair. He doesn’t answer.