Page 71 of The Rebel
Mom exhaled in frustration. “They wouldn’t,” she said, “but I guess that’s where my head was at. I thought they might kick up a fuss about his belongings and want them back. So, I kept some. Just in case.”
“His suits? Did they buy them too?”
Mom’s eyes narrowed. I’d just outed myself as being a snoop. But she shook her head. “No. Can you believe one is his wedding suit? I don’t know, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out. The other one he bought for the Christmas Gala three years ago. He looked so spectacular in it, I couldn’t get rid of it.”
“Oh, that’s makes sense,” I said. “Like his Man City shirts.” We hadn’t thrown them out, but I considered them collector’s items. But in essence, it was still his clothing.
Mom nodded. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll get rid of them one day, but for now I’ll just hold on to them. They don’t take up much space.”
“That’s cool,” I said, understanding there was nothing looney or bizarre about it, that holding on to memories was just one way to work through grief.
“Actually,” Mom said all giggly, “you could probably fit Dad’s tux now. A prom suit perhaps?” She jabbed me in the ribs with the silliest expression on her face.
“No,” I said, walking toward the door. “No way. Not ever. Don’t even go there! I might not even go to prom.”
Mom grinned, her hands on her hips. “I can find you a date if you want. I’m sure I can!”
I smiled sarcastically, but I was happy that she was happy and she could joke all she liked. The irony is that I was thinking about prom—but it depended on the answer to one pressing question: Could seniors take juniors to prom?
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Valencia declined coming to dinner with my grandparents. She thanked Mom for the invitation but said it was a special family celebration. Mom said she was part of our family, which sent me into a spin. I needed Mr. and Mrs. Reid to come home as soonas possible because I couldn’t even consider a relationship with Valencia while she was living in our house. You know,rules.
But knowing that Valencia felt the same way about me, that the electrifying chills I got from gazing into her eyes weren’t all in my head, gave me hope. But we both knew it was necessary to keep things in the friend zone for now, keep distance. (I probably should have been thankful that Gramma and Pops had packed a bag and gotten to their car so quickly.)
As it was, I hardly saw her all week.
At assembly, I looked for her face in the crowd as Hannah and I presented our talk on stage. She was sitting with her friend Jazmyn, a few rows back from Gabby, which indicated things weren’t good between them. With her detention and volunteering at the blind center, and my soccer and Victoria cracking the whip on Yearbook Club duties, we seemed to miss each other. Benji and I had a ton of work to do. You’d think selecting a few photos and writing a summary of the season would be fairly straightforward, but no. The photos had to be vetted by at least a hundred people before being accepted, and the deadline was looming.
On Friday, a bunch of us had been invited to Hannah’s host family’s house for dinner, so I hoped Victoria would give us some slack and leave the photo editing until next week. Alas, no. Unfortunately for me, or rather fortunately for Benji, he had a dental appointment, leaving me to finish up. I told Benji he owed me one, because I was already over it. Chances are we’d flick through our yearbooks once, get them signed by our classmates, then leave them on a bookshelf collecting dust.
Typically, Victoria left before me, saying she had to get ready for Hannah’s party. As if I didn’t need to go home and shower, too.
Satisfied with my work, and hoping I never had to see a soccer photo again, I made my way to the parking lot. Only a fewcars were left this late on a Friday afternoon. My heart stopped as I recognized Mrs. Reid’s blue SUV over in the far corner. I hadn’t seen it all week, presuming that Valencia was back on good terms with her friend.
Valencia had been given a week of detention, which I thought had ended on Wednesday or Thursday. Though it was possible it was extended for her no-show. Still, to be doing detention this late sucked, and my curiosity got the better of me. Heck, I’d barely seen her all week and she was staying down the hallway in my house!
I retraced my steps back into the school building and climbed the stairs to the art department, heading straight for Miss Creighton’s room. When I turned the door handle, it was locked, but there was a light coming from the supply room beyond.
I checked the other rooms, all closed and in the dark, and came back to Miss Creighton’s room. I knocked loudly.
“Jade?” Miss Creighton appeared from down the hallway. “Do you want something?”
“Uh, I wondered if Valencia was still here,” I said.
“Valencia? No.”
“She’s not doing detention?”
“Her detention finished yesterday,” Miss Creighton said.
“Oh, her car’s in the parking lot. I thought she might be here. Sorry,” I said.
Miss Creighton had reached the door, scowling at the light shining through. Bending down, she selected a key from the lanyard hanging around her neck and unlocked the door. “Nobody should be in here,” she muttered.
I’m not sure why I followed her, maybe as some sort of protector in case there was something amiss.
Miss Creighton gasped. “What are you doing here?”
