Page 38 of The Rebel
“They’ll probably be six or seven of us.” I rattled off my friends’ names: Lucy, Weston, Jordy, Sawyer, Victoria and Hannah, the German exchange student.
“Great,” she said, her eyes mischievous. “Shall I wear my royal crown?”
“We arenotdoing dress up,” I said adamantly.
“Like you won’t be wearing your Man City jersey?” Mom goaded with a wide-eyed stare.
“Okay,” I relented, “maybe we could have a theme,” because I most definitely would. Any chance to wear it and show my support of my favorite team. Only a few of my friends were fans of the Premier League, most didn’t understand the passion I had forour team,as Dad had called it.
“How did Yearbook Club go?” Mom asked.
I’d signed up for Yearbook Club before I went to England, but this was only my second meeting. Victoria, one of the co-ordinators, had delegated me a job today.
“Benji and I are doing the soccer page,” I said. “He’s writing the report and I’ll do the photo layout.”
“Page? Singular?” Mom asked.
“No, we get two measly pages. The Chargers have taken over.”
The Covington Comets had always lived in the shadow of the Chargers, our football team, and the success of their state championship title meant they were allocated a greater than usual space in this edition. The Comets had finished third in their division, kind of bittersweet because I liked to believe that if I’d played this season, we would have made it through to the finals. Though, the Rosemont Raiders would have been tough to beat.
“Do you need any help?” I asked.
“No, I’m good for now,” Mom said, about to peel an onion. “Just leave me to cry in peace. You take a shower.”
“Is that a subtle hint?” I lifted my armpit and sniffed.
“Ahem,” Mom faked a cough, scrunching her nose and laughing.
I peeked in on Ollie who was on his bedroom floor laying out his Harry Potter trading cards. Every so often he liked to sort them and spread them out. I stayed for a bit as he explained how a bunch had increased in value and were now highly sought after.
“Great,” I said, “you’ll be able to buy me that 2012 Mustang Boss.” I wasn’t a car aficionado, but a beefed-up Mustang sure would be nice. Paris’s dream car was a ’67 Shelby, he’d always said he’d buy one when he won his first pro tournament, but in the meantime he drove a Lexus SUV, because he did have a lot of tennis gear to cart around—and a reputation to maintain.
Freshly showered, I came back into the kitchen to see the taco meat was steaming on the stove top. The lines on Mom’s forehead were a little more embedded, still no sign of Valencia or a text.
“You couldn’t go over and quickly feed the cat, could you?” Mom asked. “It’ll save her a job when she gets back. I don’t knowwhat time she’ll be here.” She looked at her watch in frustration. “The key’s under the terracotta planter.”
I didn’t really want to go out in the cold to feed the cat, but Mom was stressed to the max. As I put on my jacket and shoved my feet into my sneakers, Mom explained the cat’s feeding requirements. “Call out to him, he usually comes straight away. Otherwise, shake the canister.”
“Sure thing,” I said, already forgetting whether it was one scoop or two of dry food.
I regretted not wearing boots as I traipsed over the soggy lawn and climbed the fence. There was a light on in the back of the house, on a timer I assumed. When I got closer, I could see it wasn’t the outdoor security lighting, but an indoor light. Like someone was home.
The key was under the second terracotta pot that I lifted up, but as I stood at the back door which led directly into the laundry room, I sensed that someone was inside, and my first thought was that Valencia had come home to feed the cat, fallen and was trapped.
Knocking sharply, I called out. “Valencia? Hey, Valencia, are you in there?” I didn’t wait for a response, putting the key into the lock with an urgency. Of course, it didn’t fit on the first attempt, but before I turned it, the door opened a fraction.
“Jade?” Valencia immediately turned her head, like she was hiding her face and my initial instinct was that she’d been vaping. I could smell a fruity fragrance of some sort.
“Valencia?” I came inside and grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around to face me, a detective about to catch the criminal in the act, ready to seize the evidence. Vaping had been a pretty big problem at my school in London, less so here at Covington Prep because Principal Portman’s zero tolerance and immediate suspension was a deterrent that scared even the most rebellious.
But I realized Valencia wasn’t hiding a vape when her watery eyes stared back at me, aghast that she’d been caught crying. I was equally shell-shocked, averting my gaze quickly to the blood on her chin.
“You’re bleeding,” I said, not just an out-loud observation, but almost pretending I hadn’t seen her tears.
“Am I?” She pivoted around and swiftly went out the door. I automatically followed, nearly kicking the cat’s food bowl on my way. “Volley got a fright when you knocked on the door.”
“Oh. I came to feed her,” I said, super curious as to why she was upset. Was it being clawed by the cat or was she in more trouble with Vice Principal Hayman for not showing to detention. “Mom said you were at your friend’s house.”
