Page 44 of Pride High 3: Yellow
Sultry cinnamon eyes locked onto his. “When really, you’ll be sleeping with me.”
“Yeah,” Ricky said with a squeak before he cleared his throat. “Okay. Umm…”
Diego nodded to his house. “Better get going.”
“Right.” Ricky’s breath was short as he kissed his boyfriend goodbye. “See you in the morning?”
“Yup. See ya.”
He inhaled deeply while walking up the driveway, the cold air helping cool him down in more than one way. After reaching the front door, he turned around and waved. Diego peeled out and took off down the street. Hopefully he was sober by now. True to his word, he had taught Ricky to drive stick. He didn’t have the hang of it completely, but it had been fun cruising around lonely country roads.
Ricky expected to see his mother hovering by the door as he went inside, but the house was oddly quiet. And when someone did appear, it was his father, whose face was drawn.
“You’re in big trouble,” Ken whispered.
“What?” Ricky hissed back. “It’s not ten yet! And why are we—”
“Your mother is sleeping.” His father gestured for Ricky to follow him up the stairs and to his room. He even shut the door behind them, like a friend who had exciting news but didn’t want to be overheard by adults. “Really big trouble,” his father repeated at a normal volume. “What the hell was in those cookies?”
Ricky’s stomach sank, his eyes darting to the desk, where he’d last seen the Tupperware container. It was gone.
“Nothing,” he said, before adding, “What do you mean?”
Wrong answer. His father’s demeanor changed from that of a compassionate friend to an angry parent. “Tell me right now or I’ll take the rest to the police!”
“I don’t know,” Ricky said, stalling for time. “I didn’t make them.”
Ken scowled. “Your mother ate one. Instead of trying to save your own butt, why don’t you think of her instead?”
Ricky’s mouth went dry. “Mom ate one?”
“What was in them?” his father repeated.
“Marijuana,” he admitted at last.
“Anything else?”
“No!”
Ken sat on the edge of the bed and exhaled. “Thank god.”
“Is she okay?” Ricky asked.
“I think so.” His father looked up at him with confusion in his eyes. “What are you doing, son? This isn’t like you at all!”
“You’re right,” Ricky said. “I don’t do drugs. I tried them but it’s not for me.”
“Then why were those cookies here?”
He almost answered before he considered the implications. Not only would his parents blame Diego, but what if they reported him to the police? And the cops found out that he sold weed? Ricky clamped his mouth shut.
Ken stared at him, waiting for an answer, before he shook his head. He sounded sad as he stood and went to the door. “Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” And with that, he left the room.
Ricky began to pace while cussing under his breath. He had to do something! But what? Even if he found the cookies and destroyed the evidence, it was too late. His parents knew. Beyond any shadow of a doubt! They hadn’t sniffed the cookies and merely suspected there was weed involved. His mother hadeatenone!
That stopped him in his tracks. Ricky remembered how overwhelmed he’d felt by the high, and how comforting Diego’s warmth had been as they held each other in a candle-lit cave. He began to panic at the thought of losing Diego. His parents would forbid them from seeing each other, but not if he took the blame. He’d get grounded regardless, but at the end of it, at least they could still be together.
Ricky struggled to find sleep that night. He tossed and turned in bed, weighing different excuses, worrying about how his mother felt, and thinking obsessively about Diego. He must have managed to conk out eventually, because the next thing he knew, pale light filled his room and his father was standing over him.
