Page 51 of The Tattered Gloves
THE HALLS WERE louder than usual when we returned to school the following Monday. I watched as friends hugged like they hadn’t seen each other for years even though it had only been a few days.
I wanted to roll my eyes, but honestly, I kind of missed Allison, too.
She’d spent the four-day break in the mountains with her family — something they often did in November. When she’d returned home last night, she’d called me briefly, tired and happy, but I was eager to hear all about her trip.
After all, I’d never been to the mountains.
“It was fantastic,” she said when I finally tracked her down. “We stayed at this old rustic cabin in the middle of nowhere. The views from the deck were insane. I freaked out a little at first when I realized there was no cell reception. Like, what if someone needed to contact us?” she said, making me laugh over her cell-phone dilemma. “But it was actually nice. I mean, I wouldn’t want to shut my phone off forever, you know, but a few days away was cool. Anyway, how was yours?”
“It was good. Just Addy and me. She made enough food for the entire town though,” I said, making Allison smile.
“My mom does that, too.”
Her comment made me freeze.
For all my life, the wordmotherhad a much different meaning to me than it did to most. Mothers were supposed to be caring, gentle, and giving.
My mother was none of those things.
But Addy was.
“Yeah, it was great,” I finally answered.
For the first time, I realized that word that had haunted me for years, making me question what I’d done to deserve someone like my mother… well, it didn’t anger me anymore.
Because I had an Addy.
And that was so much better.
WHEN SIXTH PERIOD finally rolled around, I felt like I had been at school for days. The fresh glow and renewed energy we’d all returned with after some much-needed time off was gone.
Gone and dead.
And, now, it was just back to the same old classes.
But at least I had one thing to look forward to. Our graded projects were being returned to us today. I wasn’t nearly as nervous as everyone else, having already heard from Mrs. Landers directly that I’d done well.
But how well was an entirely different question.
Also, the idea that Sam had written about me still lingered in my mind.
I’d thought about mentioning it to Allison, but I knew what she’d say. She’d make a big deal out of it, and soon, there would be texts and conversations. Ultimately, I’d only discover that he’d actually written one sentence about me, and the lonely old lady had just been making friendly conversation because we’d invited her over for dinner.
So, even though I still wanted to know if he had really said what she’d hinted at before dinner the other night, I wasn’t going to risk it.
Sam and I had enough tension between us. Any more, and things were liable to explode.
“All right, everyone. Let’s quiet down,” Mrs. Landers said, her loud voice somehow carrying over everyone else. “I know it’s been a long day — for me, too — and everyone is eager to get to last period and call it a day, but I have some things to go over first.”
A few groans made their way around the classroom.
“First of all, I want to say I’m really quite pleased with how everyone did on this project. It was no easy task I gave, and for the most part, the majority of you rose to the challenge.”
Looking around from my seat toward the back, I could already spot a few nervous faces from the ones who already knew they were screwed.
“But, as I’ve said before, this is more than a grade, and I hope you take what you’ve learned — about each other and yourselves — and hold it close to your heart. Cherish your memories — the good, the bad, and everything in between — because, someday, you’ll be asked to tell your own history, a story of your life… and you’ll want to make it a good one.”
Her words tossed around in my head as Mrs. Landers dived into her lecture, promising to give back our reports at the end of class.
