Page 23 of Grease Monkey
“Yes, Mr. Grover,” she says with a tight-lipped smile.
“And isn’t that up on the second floor?” My science teacher asks with a chastising arch to his bushy eyebrow.
“Yes, sir,” she says brightly before muttering, “You ask this every morning.”
“Well, I suggest you and Miss. Adler resume your conversation about pedicures and the latest boy band after class.”
“We were actually talking about boys, Mr. Grover. I was just about to give Morgana here some sex ti—”
“Keep talking, and you’ll get detention, Miss. Sylvester,” he growls. “Get to class. Now.”
She holds her hand in the air, gives a dramatic backward wave, and walks toward the stairs leading to the school’s other floors. “See ya, Morgs, don’t miss me too much. Bye, Mr. Grover. See you tomorrow.”
Chapter Nine
Morgana
Two big suitcases sit by the door on Friday night. One white, the other black, both monogrammed in silver with my parents’ initials.
“Where are you going?” I ask as Dad walks out of the living room. Holding a finger to his ear, he continues speaking on the Bluetooth device I didn’t even see him wear.
Didn’t realize people still used those things.
Mom quickly walks into the hall, setting her designer handbag on the sideboard and checking out her reflection. Flawless, as always.
“We are going away for the weekend, Morgana. There’s money on the counter for dinner for the next few nights.” She rummages through her bag and brings out a lipstick. Pouting, she slides the tube across her lips before rubbing them together. “We will be back late Sunday night.”
Mom presses her cheek against mine as Dad opens the door, taking their suitcases in either hand, and strutting outside without uttering a goodbye. It’s been this way for the past couple of years, ever since his campaigning ramped up, and he only ever needs me to look pretty for press photos. Otherwise, I doubt he remembers he has a daughter.
“Have a nice time,” I call after him.
“You didn’t want to come, did you?” Mom asks, cocking her head like it just occurred to her that maybe they should have invited their child to go with them. I shake my head. “I didn’t think so, sweetheart. It will be boring meetings and mingling and whatnot. I’ll miss you, though.”
Sure you will, the daughter you forgot to invite.
“Miss you too.”
She blows a kiss, and then they’re gone. I rest my palm on the door and shut my eyes, a stillness washing over me as the calm quiet of the empty house fills my ears. There’s no pretending to be a version my parents approve of when I’m alone. No one to ask what I’m doing, or who I’m with, or what I’m wearing. I’m free to beAna.
AndAnahas a date with Teddy tomorrow.
I run to my room as nerves resurface—not that they ever really stopped. Every day this week, Teddy has given Shay and me a ride to school, and sometimes, if he’s finished at the garage, he’s driven me home too. I swear my mom knows something’s going on since she keeps commenting on how much I’ve been smiling recently. It’s not like we’resneakingaround, but once I could have sworn I saw the twitch of the living room curtain as I scrambled out of Teddy’s car. I’m simply trying to avoid the inevitablehe’s not good enoughtalk for as long as I can.
Throwing open my closest door, I swipe through my clothes, vetoing everything my fingers touch. This is hopeless.
Morgana:Why didn’t you tell me my wardrobe wasthisbad?
Shay:Oh, babe, I tell you all the damn time. You just didn’t care before.
Morgana:You’re so helpful.
Shay:Don’t worry, I told you, I’ve got your back. It’s not your fault your fashionably impaired mother styled her only daughter like a nun.
Morgana:It’s not like she makes me wear a habit.
Shay:She might as well. At least you could accessorize that.
I throw myself onto my bed and groan.
