His fingers intertwine with mine in the grass so no one else can see. His warmth flows into my hand and spreads through me like a drug, inviting me to give in. To ride on a cloud, carefree and happy.
But my father’s voice keeps me chained, No boy could ever love damaged goods like you.
“What if we kept it here?” he suggests. “At school? If we happen to go to the same places outside of school, then so be it.”
“Are you serious?” I can’t believe he’s asking that. He knows about my parents’ spies here.
“Yes.”
“If I try to do it on the sly…I don’t even want to think about what they would do.” I know exactly what my father would do.
“How bad could it be?” he asks, as if he just caught a glimpse of what I’ve hidden from them.
“The worst,” I reply.
He pauses a minute. “I won’t push it then. But this won’t change how I feel about you, Parker. Not one bit.”
Hot tears well up and I tip my head down, letting my hair hide them. Jason cradles me into his chest, the scent of his cologne sitting on his shirt as if waiting for me. This is where I want to be, but my parents keep denying membership.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I push myself up from a huddled position at the cool porcelain toilet and drag the back of my hand over my mouth. I check the orange-ish vomit in the bowl, and my stomach lurches. I know I have nothing left, but the dry heaves continue as I clutch the toilet seat.
I brush my teeth once the heaving subsides and wonder who the ghost with darkness living under green eyes is in the mirror. Seven straight days of this has not been kind to me.
I find my mother in her bathroom applying mascara, wearing a green silk blouse and black pencil skirt.
“Mother.”
She draws back, but continues with her makeup without looking at me, even in the mirror. “What now?” she asks, irritated.
“I need to see Dr. B.”
“What for?”
“I just threw up again.”
She drops her tube of lipstick, pressing her hand to my forehead. “You’re not feverish.”
“It’s the seventh day in a row, Mother.” I keep my tone serious in the hopes she won’t brush me off.
She straightens, giving me a scrutinizing once over. Her hard gaze shifts into something different. Something I’ve never seen because they’ve always looked upon me with cruelty and disdain.
She snatches her phone off the counter and scrolls with her thumb. “Go wait in your room.”
I’m checking that I have everything I need for school in my backpack when she comes to my room five minutes later.
“I’m picking you up from school at one.” She hands me a folded piece of paper. I already know it’s a note for the office. The coldness in her eyes is gone, yet she keeps them averted.
I hold my breath, unable to turn away from the frog splayed belly-side up like a pet begging to be rubbed. Only the frog isn’t a pet. It’s dead and I have to dissect it with Jason, who looks too eager wearing a half-grin, an apron, and safety goggles.
The formaldehyde is nauseating, but my lungs burn and my head spins from the lack of oxygen. I let out the carbon dioxide and suck in some air. The pungent odor of the fixative overwhelms my nostrils, churning my stomach.
Not again.
I shove my chair back and race out the door with my hand covering my mouth. I make it to the bushes lining the walkway before losing the crackers I ate between classes. I lean against a pole supporting the overhang and a large hand flattens between my shoulder blades, startling me.
“You okay, Parker?” His voice is full of tenderness and concern as he hands me a bottle of water. “You haven’t looked well all week and you’re more pale than you were in English.”
“Thanks.” I swish some water around my mouth and spit it out into the bushes. I gaze across the grass to the cars passing on Santa Fe Drive. If I tell him how sick I’ve been, he’ll hover. “My mother is taking me to the doctor this afternoon.”
“But are you okay?”
I bite my lips together and shake my head.
“Do you want to see the nurse?”
“She’ll only make me sit in the office until Mother picks me up. And she won’t pick me up until it’s time for the appointment.”