Sunday brunch.” She shrugs her heavy shoulders like she doesn't have any further explanation. “Now that I know you know what you're doing, I think we should talk about a more permanent schedule.”
I bounce on my toes, happy she's going to keep me on.
“All right, how does this look?” Maggie asks while pointing up to a large whiteboard over the desk in her office. She has me on Wednesday through Saturday from 3:30 till 9:00, and 8:00 until 1:00 on Sunday.
“Looks perfect!” I beam at her, relieved she's giving me all the hours.
“You're sure it's not too much? That you'll be able to keep up your school work?” She tips her head forward.
I dismiss her worries with a wave. “Positive.”
That night when I get home, Mom is awake. She's scrubbing the tiny kitchen counter with a green brillo pad. Her gray eyes are unfocused, darting around and looking at everything but me.
“Working?” she questions me needlessly.
“Yeah, just got off,” I mumble tiredly, hanging my bag over the back of the dinette seat. “How are you?” It's a loaded question with her. She could give me a vague fine, or she could give me a full rendition of every event that took place today, no matter how small or insignificant.
“Okay, I guess.” She shrugs her frail shoulders. “I think...” She trails off, staring down at her hands. “I think this is where we belong.”
I try to keep the shock from my voice when I ask, “Really?” I'm not sure if I was successful, but she starts scrubbing again.
This isn't the first time she's muttered those words about a new place but it's been years since she has.
I don't know if I can believe her or not, but that's not the only problem. Is Canton the place I want her to pick?
After all these years of running and never settling down, is this the place I want that to happen?
The question flits away immediately, because the answer is yes. If this podunk town is where she can finally relax and breathe, it's where we'll stay.
Even if the kids at school are jerks, I only have less than left anyway. Maybe we could even get a small apartment.
My mind spins with all the possibilities as I let the idea take hold.
I hear mom cleaning late into the night, when I finally drift off to sleep, lulled by the sounds of her scrubbing.
I wake up once thinking a dream must have pulled me from sleep, but as I turn over I swear I hear my mom’s hushed voice speaking urgently. I can't make out what she's saying. I can tell she's trying to be quiet and her words are clipped.
Desperately hoping this isn't a new symptom to her ever-spiraling moods, I strain to make out what she is saying but it’s impossible.
Still curious, I let my legs swing over the side of the flimsy mattress and settle my weight on the floor. After only two steps the floor makes a low groan and her words die immediately.
I stand frozen for a few moments. Hoping she'll continue so I can at least get an idea of what is sending her into such a state, but she never utters another word. In fact, the place is so quiet I'm half wondering if I imagined it all to begin with.
The walk to school feels ten times longer today. I'm still tired from last night. It took hours to fall back asleep, and when I did it seemed like only minutes before my alarm clock was waking me up again.
I round the same sparse oak tree I've been taking shelter under over the last few mornings and let my eyes roam over my classmates once again. Things are pretty much the same as the last couple days, only now I'm starting to put faces with names I've picked up in classes.
I see Dante with the two other guys he was with the other day, and I'm pretty sure they're the same two guys from the diner. Their heads are close together and no one else approaches them. They seem deep in conversation when all of a sudden Dante’s head snaps around and he glares right at me.
I slip behind the tree trunk quickly, acting like I got caught doing something, but I probably just made it worse by hiding. Now it really looks like I was being all stalkerish. “Damn it!” I spin around, looking at the field that sits across from the school.