Page 15 of The Rebel of Raleigh High
5
SILVER
“You needto be home by four to watch Max, Sil. I have to work late, and your dad’s in Spokane for some conference. Neither of us will be back before midnight.” My mom’s in a rush, frantically sifting through her bag in search of something. I stab a knife into the butter dish, absently smearing some onto my toast. “Can you give him dinner, Honey? And I don’t mean pizza. A proper meal that has at least one green thing in it. There’s forty bucks on the mail stand if you wanna go grab some groceries.”
This is becoming more and more frequent, this palming-off of Max. Could be that all seventeen-year-olds end up playing stand-in parent once they get old enough, but my parents would never have dreamed of asking me to cart him around or feed him at the beginning of last year. It feels as though something’s changed, and not just all my shit at school. There’s been some kind of dynamic shift inside my home that feels distinctly unpleasant. Barely noticeable, but wrong.
“I’m teaching tonight. Gregory and Lou. Every Wednesday, remember?”
She stops what she’s doing, her hands falling slack, the open-heart surgery she was performing on her purse suddenly forgotten. “Shit. Uhh…” She closes her eyes; the cogs inside her head work overtime for a moment as she tries to come up with a solution to this problem. “I’m sorry. How much do they pay you again? Fifty bucks? I can just give you the cash instead to make up for it.”
“The money’s not the problem. Dr. Coombes drops them here so he can visit their mom. She’s still at St. Jude’s. I can’t just cancel at the last second.”
“Gail’s in a coma, Silver. She’s not going to notice if David doesn’t show up tonight.”
“Mom! Jesus Christ!”
She reacts to my tone, her head jerking around, finally looking at me with wide eyes. She looks like she’s about to yell at me, but then she stops herself. She pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers, taking a deep breath. “God, I am…that was really insensitive. I don’t even know what’s wrong with me this morning. I’m sorry. Of course David needs to go and see Gail. And yes, you need to take the twins. Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out while I’m at work.”
I say nothing. When I tear a chunk out of my toast, it feels like I’m biting into a healthy slice of guilt, though. I drop my cold breakfast onto my plate, pushing it away. “I’ll pick Max up before the boys the arrive. He can play Halo while I do the class. I’ll take him with me to the store afterward.”
My mom nearly sags with relief. She slides across the kitchen in her sock feet, wrapping her arms around me, enveloping me in a Gucci scented hug. “Silver, you are officially the freaking best. I’m sorry to lay that on you, but I do appreciate it. Your dad and I are gonna do better at making sure one of us is always here in the evening from now on, okay? This was just an unavoidable situation.” She plants a kiss on top of my head, squeezing my shoulder, and then she’s back at her bag, singing under her breath as she rummages, the entire thing completely forgotten about.
Gregory and Lou’s mom was T-boned at the intersection by Costco a month ago, and she’s been in a coma ever since. Before the accident, Gail used to be the one who brought the boys over for their guitar lesson, and she and Mom—best friends since high school—would sit in the kitchen at the breakfast counter and drink glasses of Sauvignon Blanc until the class was over.
Mom cried for three days straight after Gail’s accident. A black cloud descended on the house, and no one could breathe a word in Mom’s direction without causing a fresh barrage of tears. After the third day, when Gail looked like she wasn’t going to die, but everyone was unsure when, or if, she was going to wake up, Mom just…stopped crying.
She hasn’t been to visit her once.
* * *
It’s beena while since I put any real thought into what I wear to school, but for the past few weeks, ever since Alex Moretti showed up and ruined everything, I’ve been making changes. Every day, there’s been some small concession made. It started with matching socks, even though no one was going to see them. Then matching underwear. A pretty hair-tie. Lip balm, and then actual lipgloss. Last week, I pulled my favorite Billy Joel shirt out of rotation because it was looking a little threadbare and ratty.
Today, though, I’ve done something unthinkable. As I walk through the entrance to school, my head down, I feel incredibly self-conscious in the strappy black top with the lace trim I’m wearing underneath my hoodie. It was fucking stupid to wear something that doesn’t completely cover my skin. Extra,extrastupid to wear it for Alex Moretti’s benefit, when he hasn’t even looked in my general direction for the past two weeks, and I decided on day one that I didn’twanthim to notice me, either, but…
When I was eleven, there was a full solar eclipse, and everyone warned me not to look up at the sun without wearing the special glasses they gave out to us at school. I knew it would potentially damage my eyes, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to take a peek.
I amthatperson.
And now here I am in a strappy black top, hoping rather recklessly that Alex might actually seemetoday, even though…
“Well, would you look at that. Parisi bothered to look in a mirror before she got dressed this morning. Boys, is…is she wearing makeup?” Jacob Weaving’s voice calls from across the hall. I can feel his eyes crawling over me, and I have to fight the urge to throw up inside my locker. As always, he’s hovering with Cillian and Sam in front of his locker, joking and rough-housing—they’re like a bunch of fucking Neanderthals, guffawing and shoving one another as if they’re somehow impressing the rest of the school with their brainless antics.
“Wonders will never cease,” he continues. “Honestly, I was beginning to think you were gonna start showing up in a garbage bag. Are the short skirts and the knee-high socks gonna be making a comeback, too, Silver?”
I press my lips together, biting back the cutting retort that’s just begging to be unleashed. This is nothing new. I’m used to the taunting and the sly digs he sends my way across this hallway. Some days, ignoring him is harder than others, though.
“Come on, Sil. We all miss those thighs of yours. I’m getting bored of diving into the spank bank every time I wanna jerk off. You used to love putting on a show for us.”
“Gross, Jake. Why would you even bother with that hag when you have me to tempt you now?”
The cool, mocking voice belongs to none other than Kacey. I catch a glimpse of her in the mirror I have glued to the inside of my locker door, and I see the spite in her eyes as she stares at my back. Her hip is popped, jutting out to one side as she leans provocatively against the bank of lockers next to her new monster of a boyfriend. She’s pouting, her lips heavily glossed, her demeanor confident and commanding, but I recognize the jealousy in her gaze. She hates me; she hates that she just caught Jake talking about my body even more.
I huff out a breath of bitter laughter under my breath as I grab my calculus book for first period and slam my locker door closed. There will come a time when she won’t be desperate for that sick motherfucker’s attention…
“Ahh, don’t get precious on me now, baby,” Jake croons. “She’s got nothing on you. You are one hundred percent right. Why would I want Second Place Silver when you are first place gold?”
This seems to pacify her. God, Kacey was never a straight-A student, but she was never this stupid either. I sling the strap of my backpack over my shoulder, peeling away, hurrying down the hallway, making sure to keep my eyes on my shoes; I’m almost past them when Jake’s voice echoes above the chatter of the other students.
