Page 33 of The Rebel
“She’s been in her room all night,” Mom said in a hush.
“All night?” I mouthed in surprise. I felt bad for Mom, knowing she’d been looking forward to her company.
Mom nodded, giving an excuse for Valencia’s less than stellar behavior. “I guess she’ll need an adjustment period. It did happen very quickly and she’ll be missing her family.”
Oliver and I hustled over who would shower first, our shared bathroom between our bedrooms. Even though I pointed out that I’d been the one sweating, he raced me and I made a mock protest as he beat me down the hallway. I was always going to let him win because his bedtime was looming, but I wanted to spray myself with some deodorant, you know, in case Valencia came out of her room.
I lingered in the kitchen, drinking a banana smoothie. Footsteps came padding down the hallway and thinking—hoping—it was Valencia, I put it down and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, my stupid heart amping up at the anticipation of seeing her.
It was Oliver, dressed in his Harry Potter pajamas. “What?” he asked.
“What?” I parroted back.
“You were smiling.”
“I wasn’t.”
“What were you smiling at?”
“You in your stupid pajamas.”
“Nah.”
“I was thinking how good my goal was,” I said, stepping out from behind the counter in a reenactment of dribbling the ball before striking it hard with my left foot into the back of the net. “Come on, you need to get to bed.” It was my Dad voice again.
“I just wanted a glass of water.”
“Well, hurry, it’s late,” I said. “You finished in the bathroom?”
Ollie nodded and I left him to it, taking my smoothie with me. I sauntered down the hallway, alert for any signs of what Valencia might be doing. A sliver of light shone from under the door but no sound came from the room. I considered knocking to say goodnight, but a galloping Oliver kept me walking on by.
But probably Mom was right—she was no doubt missing her family and with the trouble at school, she might need a little space.
I’d catch up with her tomorrow.
Chapter 9
VALENCIA
I woke to two consecutive buzzes and blindly grabbed at my phone on the nightstand. It never seemed to recognize my early morning face of bleary eyes and bedhead, and my clumsy fingers needed two attempts at inputting the passcode.
Paris had sent two photos of them arriving at the airport and a single line of text:Made it.
I flopped back on my pillow, taking stock of where I was. The bed had been surprisingly comfortable, and though it had taken me a while to drop off—thinking about Mom and Dad and Paris and Gabby and Scott and Mrs. Fox—I had admittedly slept like a log.
I checked my messages, two long ones from Mom, one about the flight and another reminding me to check the fridge and to take the milk and juice and yogurt to the Sinclairs before it went off. I wasn’t going to do that, as if the Sinclairs would want half cartons of milk and yogurt, but at least there was nothing about the discipline slip, which was a relief. Maybe Dani hadn’t considered it an issue.
I showered, dressed and packed my school bag. I’d go over to feed Volley and text Gabby to see if she could pick me up from my house. Standing at the door, I breathed in deeply, summonsing up some courage. It’s not that I hated being at the Sinclairs’ house, but I didn’t intend to enjoy my time here either. I’d be cordial and polite but I wasn’t going to join in family activities. I had to remember that I was here because Mom and Dad and Paris didn’t want me with them. And for that, they needed to feel some sort of guilt.
I’d retreated to my bedroom after dinner, a little jealous to hear that Jade and Oliver were going out to a soccer game. Jade played with a school team and Oliver was watching. See, that’s what good siblings did, supported each other, and I could see there was a strong bond between them.
Dani was already in the kitchen, but I’d half expected that. I plastered a smile on my face and returned her greeting.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked, “Can I get you some breakfast?”
“Yeah, I did. I’m going to feed Volley, then my friend’s going to pick me up from home. I’ll be late after school.”
“Okay,” Dani said. “Do you want something to eat first? I’ve made pancakes.” She pushed forward a plate of stacked pancakes, accompanied by a small mound of berries and a dollop of yogurt. It looked like something from a cafe.
