Page 37 of My High School Rebel Boyfriend
“Well, of all the days to fall down stairs,” Mom huffed.
“Does it hurt?” I asked. It was seriously swollen and the dark purple color reminded me of Mitchell’s bruises.
“Yes, it does,” Dad shot a pouty look at Mom. “At least one person cares about me,” he sulked, giving me a wink when Mom turned away.I grabbed the crutches that were leaning against the couch and hopped around the floor on them, wondering how bad Mitchell’s pain was.
Dad had never been keen on the Charity Fundraisers which Whittakers ran twice a year, but as a senior staff member he was obliged to attend. Mom, on the other hand lived for them. A new dress, new shoes, hair and nails done, a chance to go to the Country Club. Mom and Dad’s social life mainly revolved around dinner parties and barbecues at their friends’ houses, so this was somewhat a treat. For Mom at least. She’d had highlights done on her hair yesterday and her nails were a burgundy shade that matched her dress. Dad wasn’t a fan of mingling with thehoity-toity.
“You really want me to go?” I asked Mom. Bella was going with Jack, which was the only reason I was considering it. “You wouldn’t rather take Aunt Trish?”
“No, won’t it be fun, a girls night out? And didn’t you say Bella was going?"
“Yes, but she’s got the most beautiful dress. I’ve got nothing to wear!”
“I thought you could wear Nadine’s prom dress,” Mom said, and my eyes popped. Two years ago my sister had worn a gorgeous prom dress, emerald green, one shoulder, tight fitting with a slit up the side. It was movie-star glamorous, which suited Nadi, but me, I wasn’t sure I could pull off the look. For homecoming I’d worn a short white and silver sequinned dress with a tulle skirt—cute rather than sexy.
I tried on the dress and Mom got out her sewing kit and pinned here and there. A few adjustments would need to be made, I was taller and thinner than Nadine. I did a twirl for Dad, who briefly opened his eyes. He was dozing in his chair, the long wait at the emergency clinic plus the combination of pain relief all a little too much for him.
With the drama of Dad’s injury and then a video chat with the girls to tell them my news, I sat down on my bedroom floor to paint mytoenails. Only then was I able to digest what had happened earlier at school.
Mitchell Finlayson had hinted that there was something wrong in his life, but he was also very clear that he was unwilling to share with me. Yet, he’d held me, he’d pulled me close and even though it wasn’t in a romantic way there was some connection, an opening into who the real Mitchell was. And it wasn’t some tough, aloof bad boy.
No, that seemed to be an act.
I’d formulated my own truth about Mitchell’s bruises—he had a wicked stepfather who was physically abusive. From the limited information I had, it was all I could come up with. And considering I’d never seen his parents I was making some pretty outrageous and unfounded assumptions. It was baffling. I mean, as far as I knew he was a good student and he was a star of the basketball team. Why would they beat him?
But there was little I could do about it. I could hardly help a boy who denied he needed help, but I could be there for him, couldn’t I? I could be a friend to him. But even that wasn’t easy—I didn’t have his number and I didn’t want to stalk his social media, nor have to ask Titan. I would have to wait till school on Monday.
Bella was being picked up by Jack in his father’s new Mercedes, but Mom and I had a less impressive arrival in a minivan taxi with Dad’s work colleagues. That’s when I wondered if I’d made a mistake in coming. Several of them had had pre-drinks and I envisioned sitting at a table with tipsy adults—fun,not.And Mom wasn’t averse to a glass of wine or two. In fact she’d downed one already, to get herselfin the mood.
If nothing else I did feel good, well, spectacular in my sister’s prom dress. Dressing up was a rarity and I was pleased with how I’d curled my hair into soft waves and managed to draw a perfect winged eyeliner.
As the taxi pulled up to the valet area and the others piled out, Mom did a final check. “You’ve got your tester? And your insulin pen?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes,” I hissed, though I double checked my sequinned pocket book swinging off of my shoulder.
“Okay, good,” she said, “let’s go.”
The cool night air hit me like a blast from the Arctic but only on one arm. My one shoulder style meant my left arm was fully sleeved, my right shivering with goosebumps. Climate change had something to answer for; it shouldn’t have been this cold in November. I hadn’t brought a coat because I didn’t have a suitable one. Mom had deemed my denim and puffer jackets inappropriate. I had about thirty yards of sub-freezing conditions to battle.
I scurried as best I could in my three inch heels.
“Harper, is that Miss Duel?” Mom asked, making me come to a halt.
“Who?” I didn’t know anyone by that name. I cast my eyes in the direction of a tall figure in a fluorescent orange jacket .
“Mit-chell,” she said. “Is he working security?”
My mom might have thought my sharp inhale was due to the icy chill in the air, but it wasn’t. The sight of Mitchell had literally taken my breath away. Shivers abounded, though they couldn’t be attributed to the temperature either—no, seeing him had stirred up a tightening in my stomach, an excitement I couldn’t explain.
“I didn’t know he had a job,” I said, watching him walk closer. So many things I didn’t know about him. Did he work at the Country Club or for a security firm?
“Come on,” Mom urged, “you’ll freeze to death out here.” She flared out the woolen coat on her shoulders like a cape, trying to shield me from the wind.
I immediately felt the warmth from the soft fabric, but I jolted away. “I’ll just say hi.” Mitchell hadn’t seen me, it looked like he was doing a patrol of sorts. He seemed to be ignoring that someone was approaching him, then frowned and upon recognizing me, stopped in surprise.
Then another frown. “Dent?”
“You work here?” His hands were shoved into the front pockets of the heavy orange coat, the collar pulled up around his neck.
