as my phone buzzes in my pocket again. I know I need to check it, just in case there’s an emergency, but for tonight I don’t want to do that.
“Yeah! I heard tonight is a re-match or something like that. I’m not sure who he’s racing, but I heard he’s confident that he’s going to win.” She looks out the window and snorts. “But if Julian Fitz is racing well that’s another story all together. But then again, I heard Shane has a secret weapon he’s going to use tonight.”
In hindsight, I should’ve questioned that.
I should’ve paid attention to the way my stomach dipped and the queasy feeling that made my blood simmer for just a second just before the chilling started, freezing my bones. I should’ve noticed the way she was looking at me. Or the evil glint in her eyes.
But I didn’t.
I shrug it off and blamed it on nerves.
It wasn’t.
There’s more I should’ve done, but the thing about tipping points, they can only be recognized in retrospect.
“Everyone’s here to see Shane go against one of the Fitz brothers,” Kristine says giddily.
“Yeah, and I’m sure I won’t get any decent parking because of it.” I look around, trying to find a spot where I can be sure I won’t be boxed in, just in case I need to get the hell out of here.
“Drop me off here. I’m sure you’ll find something at the back there.” She waves her wrist and I stop the car, needing a moment to myself. She gets out to meet her other friends and they all start screaming, waving enthusiastically at me. As always, I shoot them my best fake smile. Why Kristine plays with them, I have no clue.
Shaking my head, I contemplate if I should just ditch and go home now as I drive around, looking for a spot to park.
Or maybe if I drive my father’s favorite car over the cliff, then dive out at the last second, maybe he’ll get the message that he needs to spend money—that we don’t have anymore—carefully! Now, Mom’s getting worse by the day and we won’t have a home soon.
And it’s all because of him.
As I drive slowly, I notice a deserted dirt road that leads to a little stretch of forest, which I’m betting leads to some back roads of the unflattering outskirts of L.A.
I think the road is an escape route and it seems not a lot of people here know about it or else they would’ve parked closer to it. Just in case.
“Not so smart, are we?” I whisper, noticing the obvious divide between my school and St. Jude High.
You can tell by the way the whole thing is set up. For Clintwood, there’s preppy, rich kids drinking wine coolers, and the occasional Jack Daniels for the hard hitters…well, I’ll give them that for now.
As for the school I really wanted to attend, they’re passing blunts, girls passing each other a bottle of Hooch and guys being loud, causing a ruckus.
That’s the thing about St. Jude, they have presence. Which can’t be said about Clintwood, though we try. Insert eye roll.
I park my car at the very back, cutting off the engine. But I can’t make myself get out of the car. Or ignore the continuous buzzing of my phone for a second longer. I reach for it and find five missed calls and a text from my father.
Daddy: Mia, please answer your phone. Don’t let your aunt poison you against me.
I scoff, anger coursing through my veins. Clutching the phone in my hand, I quickly delete the text. I want to delete my father’s number but I don’t.
“You did that all on your own, Dad,” I grit out, the urge to drink and forget taking over me with a vengeance again.
There’s also a text from my aunt.
Auntie N xoxo: Come home, Mia, my love. We need to talk.
I suck in a deep breath, reading the single text over and over.
My stomach twists and flips, the sense of dread washing over me. There are a thousand and one things that might be wrong, and I know whatever my aunt has to say, it has to do with my mother.
Something’s wrong.
My heart starts racing. Chills race up and down my spine, and suddenly, I can’t breathe. My entire body starts shaking as images of my mother on the bathroom floor, in a fetal position that scared the shit out of me, flashes in my mind. That day, she was unable to