Page 95 of We Shouldn't Be Together
That boy has too much energy.
Inside the house, I find Drew spying through the front window. He peels himself away, asking in a mocking tone, “Did Daddy’s little angel get busted with the bad boy?”
“Ugh, shut it, Drew.”
“Hey, I’m just looking out for you. Just like Dad is when he’s scaring away your little boyfriend.”
I drag my foot along the floor runner. “Kai is not my boyfriend.”
“No, of course not,” Drew says, slinking across the living room. “You just really enjoy studying chemistry.”
I grab a pillow from a nearby armchair and toss it at his head. “Maybe I do.”
Cradling the pillow, Drew sends me a wink as I slink toward the hallway. I creep along the floorboards, avoiding any attention from Mom, but I fail.
“Tabby,” she calls out.
I turn as she enters the hallway. “Yeah?”
“How was your study session?”
I inhale bravely and exhale with a smile. “Really good, actually.”
Mom’s face brightens. “Really?”
I lower my backpack to the floor and unzip it, finding my chemistry notes. I step toward Mom, showing her what Kai and I worked on. “Check this out. We’re actually ahead for tomorrow’s class.”
“Really?” Mom asks, surprised. “This is all legit?”
“Ask Drew. He’ll vouch for it all being correct.”
Mom takes my notes and backtracks into the living room. “Drew, is Tabby’s work correct?”
With a grunt, Drew takes my notes, scans them, then lets out a slow whistle. “Nice one, Tab. This looks great.”
I squeal. “Really?”
He nods, reclined on the couch. “You’ve done good work.”
Mom takes the notes back. “Wow, Tabby, I’m really proud of you.”
My hands clasp over the space above my heart. “You are?”
She smiles, handing me back the notes. “Yes, darling. Good work.”
I sigh as if a mountain of stress has cascaded off my shoulders. “Thank you, Mom.”
She winks, leaving for the kitchen. “Maybe I won’t need to email your teacher after all.”
I wave my notes as if they’re cheerleader pom-poms.
Mom didn’t tear me down.
This really is a miracle.
I limp my way out of the living room, and Drew sits up. “What’s with your foot?”
“Nothing,” I call back, forcing more weight onto it.
