Page 57 of Tutoring the Bad Boy
“Like…I hope you don’t mind eating fake turkey this year.”
My jaw drops. “What?” All thoughts of Kaleb are gone. Not that fake turkey is more important than Kaleb, but…fake turkey.
Ronnie toes the floor with her tennis shoe. “My mom kinda made plans with our family who live in California. We haven’t seen them in a few years, and they’re planning on being in the country. I won’t be back until late Sunday night.”
Whatever happy wind that was keeping my boat floating along is dead as a doornail. “But...”
“I’m so sorry.”
I groan. “You’re sorry. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
A small smile appears on her lips. “But I’m making up for it. Mom gave me the credit card, and I’ve got her blessing to gorge tonight. Dixie might even join. I figure we’ll order enough so you can have provisions for Thursday.”
Inside, I’m whining like a five-year-old. I don’t want day-old provisions. I want turkey and dressing and gravy and all the other stuff. Instead of throwing myself down on the floor and screaming like I want to, I say, “That sounds great.” I’ll sneak away in a little bit and text Kaleb about the change of plans. As disappointed as I am about Thanksgiving dinner, I’m even more so at not knowing what we were going to talk about tonight.
Just as I’m about to respond, my phone dings. Excitement courses through me, imagining that it’s Kaleb. When I pull out my phone and see it’s my mom, it’s buzzkill central. I lift my phone so Ronnie can see it. “Mom.”
She nods in understanding.
I tap the screen and read the message.
Mom: I told Ronnie’s mom you can spend the night, but you still need to get a run in. Just because the season is over doesn’t mean you need to go soft. Also, no junk food.
No junk food? Yeah right. And running on top of that? If ever there was a good reason to meet up with Kaleb, this is it.
Me: Run? Isn’t that rude?
Mom: Ronnie’s mom understands. She’s fine with it.
Me: Okay.
Mom: I push you because I love you.
The first thought that rolls through my head is that I wished she loved me a little less.
Me: I know. I love you too.
“So,” Ronnie says, hooking her arm in mine again and pulling me into a walk. “I’m thinking pizza from Gesetto’s, mozzarella sticks from Toby’s Shake’n Shack—”
My eyes go wide. “And fried pickles from Gillian’s Burger House.”
Ronnie nods emphatically. “Oh, how long has it been? My mouth is watering.”
It’s been a while since I’ve had plain girl fun and ate junk until I wanted to puke. I’m not sure when my senior year got so complicated and heavy. It was supposed to be an easy year, but nothing about it has been easy so far.
Maybe if I just hang on until the new year, things will be better. Over winter break, I’ll be deciding which college I want to attend. Granted, I’m limited to the ones offering scholarships, but I do have several to choose from that are days away from Port Crest. Once I pick a school, the pressure will be off.
Just then, Dixie joins us, taking the opposite side from Ronnie. “Okay, I’m here. The party can start.”
Ronnie tips forward a little and looks at her. “No plans after all?”
Dixie clears her throat. “Nope, I’m as free as can be.”
The way she says it tells me I’ve missed something. “Are you okay?” I ask her.
“Fine as bone china,” she replies, her sassy twang back in prime form.
Broken china maybe. I pull the three of us to a stop. “Oh, we are so talking.”
