Rebel at Spruce High (Spruce Texas Romance #5) - Daryl Banner Page 0,83

join in, giggling as loud as she can, though her eyes carry a hint of worry in them.

My father seems deeply relieved at the mayor’s response, and he quickly grabs the reins of the conversation and steers it away from all mention of me. I sit back in my chair, appetite gone, and wait for this stupid dinner to end. Would it have been so bad if the mayor actually took what I said seriously instead of just laughing it off? He practically proved my point in doing so. Teenagers are not empty-minded, innocent children—not in the way people like Mayor Raymond think. We have problems just as real as theirs. We have problems that go unheard and ignored, too—and get worse.

And the longer I think on it, the more I fume.

In the car ride back to Spruce, the atmosphere is drastically different than it was on the way to the restaurant. My dad is tired and sullen as he drives, likely exhausted from all of the socializing. My mom is oddly pensive, not altogether upset, but seeming to be mulling over something curious in her mind as she gazes out at the road. Not a word is uttered by any of us, despite my expecting at least a tiny scolding from Mom about speaking to the mayor that way. Is it crazy to wonder if a part of her liked my jab at him?

When we’re back in Spruce, my dad stops by the corner store because he needs to pick something up. After my dad hops out, my mom and I are left in the car next to a gas pump, waiting in our usual stiff silence, the minutes ticking by.

Then my mom asks, “What did you mean during dinner?”

I look up to find her head half turned, her lips pursed. “What did I mean with what?”

“The part about teenagers seeing and feeling more than they are given credit for.”

This might be the first time she’s talked to me in a week. “I … was just … saying it how it is, I guess.”

“Is something going on at school that I need to know about?”

“No. Other than what you already know.”

She frowns in thought. “You mean … with the football players pushing that Toby kid around?”

“Yeah.”

She gazes at the glove box, thinking some more. “Hmm,” is all she says back.

Another moment passes. I take a breath, then decide to see her question as an olive branch of sorts. “But it’s nothing to worry about,” I go on to assure her. “I stick by Toby’s side, now. No one messes with him. And no one messes with me, either.”

She says nothing at first, still staring at the glove box. Then she turns her head halfway back to me, and the look in her eyes is soft. “You both were cast in the play together? Is that true?”

“Yep.”

She nods slowly in acknowledgement. “Well, sounds like Toby is … sure lucky to have you for a friend.”

I feel my posture stiffen up proudly. “I’m the lucky one.”

She doesn’t smile, but her voice seems to when she responds with another simple, musical, “Hmm.”

A few minutes later, my dad returns, and off we go the rest of the way home. My dad who apparently pep-talked himself inside the corner store, considering his change in attitude, makes a few comments about the mayor and how it will be an uphill battle for Nadine Strong, but he isn’t worried. After the election is won—assuming the rumors are true and Nadine is running against him—we will be in good graces with the mayor himself, and isn’t that just the most lovely thing? “He’s someone we want in our pockets!” I swallow a snide remark about whether my dad intends the mayor to be in our pocket, or if he intends to be in the mayor’s.

After returning home, I get myself a glass of water from the kitchen, then make my way for the stairs, intending to finish up my homework before heading off to Biggie’s. My mother’s voice stops me. “Donovan.” She stands by the coatrack in the entryway holding her purse, a mirror at her back. My dad already vanished into the bedroom, likely to change into something more relaxed.

I rest a hand on the railing. “Mom.”

She calmly lifts her eyebrows. “You going out tonight again?” I nod. “To see your friend Toby?” I nod again. She takes a breath, twitches, then reaches into her purse and takes out a set of keys.

My motorcycle keys.

“I realize