Page 77 of Tutoring the Bad Boy
“I’ll ask to make sure, but you know the answer is always yes.”
Dixie takes my hand. “And you can stay with me too. Whatever happens, I’ve got you too.”
“Thanks.” I sniff, forcing back what little tears I might have left. “I’ll see you guys later.”
I leave Ronnie’s house and march straight to mine. To tell the truth, I don’t know how I feel. My stomach is swirling with emotions. I’m mad and hurt and disappointed. My mom has no idea how damaged our relationship is now, and I don’t know if she’ll even care.
In the short distance between my house and Ronnie’s, the weariness of the last month or so comes bearing down on me. If I could, I’d walk straight to my room and sleep for a year.
When I step inside the house, Mom is sitting at the table, sipping on tea and working on her laptop. She looks at me and seethes. “Are you finished acting like a brat?”
Well, Iwastired. “I don’t know. You finished acting like a jerk?”
My mom works her jaw, stands, and marches through the house until she’s a few feet away. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“What has gotten into you?” She practically yells it.
I’m so angry my hair is standing on end. If I were a skunk, I’d have already sprayed her twice. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s my mom conspiring with a boy at my school in the hopes of breaking my heart.” I tap my chin. “No, wait. It’s probably the text she sent from my phone. To not only the boy she hired to break my heart, but also to one of my best friends.”
Her face loses every ounce of color. “What are you talking about?”
Wow. Why am I even talking to her? She’ll never admit fault.
I stare at her a second longer and then stomp up the stairs to pack a few things. I’m not staying in this house another minute. I’ve caught her. She knows it, and she’s still acting like she has no clue what could be wrong.
“Imogene Gray, you do not walk away from me.” She stomps up the stairs behind me.
She almost gets to my door, when I slam it shut. I’d lock it, but I’m not staying. I grab my bag from the closet and drop it on the bed.
She barges through and stands by the door. “Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?”
Who do I think I am? “I’m done. That’s what I am. I’m going to go where I please when I please, and you don’t get a say in it.” I say all this while trekking back and forth from my dresser to my bag, filling it up so I’m not wasting time. Funny thing, on my third trip to the dresser, I find my favorite sweatpants buried beneath my jeans. I’d bring it up, but what’s the point. She knew I was sneaking out, and I knew it too. Besides, there’s a lot more to talk about than sweatpants.
“I’m still your mother, young lady.”
“You stopped being my mother the second you conspired with Kaleb. The fact that you could even think to do something like that…” The sentence dies on my lips because there aren’t words to describe what she’s done.
She holds out her hands. “Wait. Just wait.” She softens just a fraction. “I did it, but I don’t want you to wind up like me. I don’t want you pregnant at eighteen and a single mom by the time your baby is a toddler. That’s not the life I want for you.”
For a moment, I stand there, our eyes locked. It’s been the two of us my entire life. We’re supposed to be friends. That’s what she always said to me. That she wanted to be the one I relied on when things were hard. But that’s not how things have been for years now.
As I think about our relationship since we moved to Port Crest, I realize her constant hovering has warped it. It’s not that she wants to be my friend; she wants to be my jailer. And right now, what I see in her eyes isn’t a mom who was wanting the best for me and not thinking straight. She’s a woman who wishes her life had been different.
“You regret having me.” It’s not a question. There’s no other way to interpret what she’s saying. She wishes I’d never been born.
She sucks in a sharp breath and shakes her head. “No, not at all. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that…how?” I zip up my bag and put it over my shoulder.
Her gaze flicks from me to the bag. “What are you doing?”
I walk to the door.
“Ginny. Stop. We can talk about this.” She rushes forward and takes me by the arm, turning me to face her. “I do love you. I’ve never regretted having you. I just…I panicked. I could see what was coming. You and Kaleb spending all that time together. I wanted to show you that you’re too young for anything serious. Both of you are.”
She’s not really sorry. I can hear it in her voice. She still thinks she was right. There’s no apology. No recognition of wrongdoing. Nothing.
