Page 30 of The Rebel
I’d finished my chemistry notes when Mom and Oliver arrived home. Mom scoped out the room as if looking for Valencia, mouthing a muted, “Is Valencia in her room?”
“No, she went to feed the cat,” I said in a regular voice.
Mom smiled, but she was still whispering. “Oh. Did everything go all right with Mrs. Hayman?”
“Yeah. She said a sub wrote her a discipline slip for using her phone.”
“Oh, that seems a bit harsh,” Mom said, now reverting to normal volume.
“Yeah.” I leaned forward to look outside. She’d been gone at least thirty minutes.
“You’ve got soccer tonight?” Mom asked.
“Yep. At seven.” I played in an indoor soccer league once a week with a bunch of school friends, a good way to keep fit and sharpen our skills in the off season.
“I picked up a rotisserie chicken at the store so I’ll cook some scalloped potatoes and green beans.”
“Sounds good,” I said. She was halfway out to the kitchen when I remembered that I hadn’t checked where she’d put Dad’s clothes. The idea of snooping in her room wasn’t appealing, but I was burning with curiosity.
“I’m coming, right?” Oliver asked.
“If you’ve done your homework,” I said, sounding more like a parent than a big brother. Since coming back from England, it was my mission to take Oliver with me whenever I could, to give Mom a break. And especially now, after seeing the clothes.
“Yep, most of it. I just have to finish my cover for my science project.”
“Okay, buddy.”
“Cool!” Oliver pumped his fist and ran out of the room.
I sat forward on the couch, my neck permanently tilted in the direction of the window. Feeding a cat couldn’t possibly take that long—unless, of course, Valencia was hanging out at her house. But why would she do that—unless she didn’t want to be here.
I stood up and walked over to the doors, now worrying and practically willing her to appear. What if an intruder had broken into the house and taken her hostage? People did that, they had sophisticated systems where they learned who was traveling abroad and broke into their houses when they were away. I’d seen it on a video.
“Valencia’s not back?” Mom came back in, looking at her phone.
“No, don’t think so,” I said, pretending I hadn’t been watching out for her. “You want me to find her?”
“I’ll text her,” Mom said.
“You’ve got her number?” I asked.
Mom frowned as if that was an unusual thing for me to say. But I wanted Valencia’s number! In fact, I should probably have it in case she needed a ride, or...
A flash of maroon emerged from the orchard, Valencia coming into sight with her phone in her hand.
Mom’s phone pinged at the same time that I said, “She’s coming.”
I followed Mom out to meet her at the front door. Valencia was swept into an embrace and squeezed tightly like a long lost relative, Mom gushing about how pleased she was to have her stay with us. I had a sudden crazy thought that I should be next for a hug.
But Mom guided Valencia to her room and I was tempted to follow, but she was saying stuff about making herself at homeand settling in and dinner being ready soon. Mom came back to the kitchen but Valencia’s bedroom door closed with a loud click.
“Is everything all right?” Now I was the one mouthing words.
“Yes, she’s just getting changed,” Mom said, frowning at me like I was being overly nosy.
Valencia didn’t come out of her room until Mom called for dinner. She’d changed into black sweat pants and a dark purple hoodie and stood awkwardly between the kitchen and the dining room, looking like she wanted to help but not saying anything.
“Take a seat,” Mom shooed her away.
