in rehab then I can't see her at all!”
“Don't be selfish, Charlotte. Your mother's making a conscious choice towards her own recovery.”
“I don't understand why I can't just come with you to drive her there,” I start, feeling tears prick my eyes, but Dad's clearly done with the conversation. He grabs his clothes off the bed, and heads for the bathroom. “This is fucking bullshit.”
“I am getting tired of your crass language. It makes you sound uneducated. Is that how you want people to perceive you? As willfully ignorant and uneducated? Because you won't get very far in life, Charlotte.” My mouth purses into a thin line, but there's no point in arguing with him. He makes sure he wins every single one. “Besides, you need to respect your mother's wishes.”
“How so?” I ask, following him a few steps toward the bathroom door. “Her wish is not to see me?”
Dad says nothing, but I can see it written into the lines of his face.
“She asked me to pick her up alone because she doesn't want you to see her like this. It's because she loves you, Charlotte, that she doesn't want you to come.” He heads into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. Meanwhile, that numb feeling just creeps into all my fingers and toes and stays there, even as he walks out the door, even when he comes back, and it holds onto me all the wat back to Connecticut.
January in the Northeast is freaking cold. That brief little stint back in California took away any residual resistance I had to the weather. The big stone hallways of Adamson Academy feel like ice caverns as I shiver my way from the last class of the day to the Culinary Club meeting.
“How long is this damn heater going to be out?” Spencer snaps, slamming some pots and pans on the counter. “Those assholes have been working on it all day.”
“For the amount the school's paying them, you'd think it'd be done already,” Church adds mildly, sipping a cup of coffee as I hip bump my way into the room. His amber eyes catch on mine as I chuck my backpack onto the floor, and pull the new North Face jacket I got for Christmas a little tighter around me. It's the only good Christmas memory I came back from California with.
“That's the problem with you upper crust types,” I say as I pull a cookbook close and pretend not to care that Ranger's watching me with narrowed, sapphire eyes. The twins have been teasing me all day, but it's a light, mild sort of teasing that doesn't really bother me. What sort of game they're playing, I don't know, but it's better than having a jar of spiders dumped on me, so I'll take it. “Those men are out there in the freezing cold busting their asses to fix a boiler system that's been around since the turn of the century. Cut them some slack.”
“Wow, you sure came back with an extra bite of asshole,” Spencer snaps, but I keep my gaze focused on the cookbook in front of me. I can't look at him, not after all the daydreaming I've been doing about his kisses. Those turquoise eyes, that silver ash hair, the heat of his hands. “You must've had a good time with your girlfriend, huh?”
“They broke up,” the twins announce as I fling the kitchen door open with gusto. “We witnessed it.” They both hold up their hands and shrug in a placating gesture.
“Actually, Tobias punched Cody, the guy Monica was sleeping with,” I say, flipping the pages and looking for some sort of casserole dish that I can make to stay warm. Now that I know we're actually earning extra credits for this class, I'm trying a bit harder. If I play my cards right, I won't end up in summer school again this year.
“Are you fucking serious?” Spencer asks, and I glance up to see him looking between the twins and me in confusion. “You were all together for break?”
The twins both sigh and exchange a look before turning back to Spencer. When I flick a quick glance over my shoulder at them, I know right away that Micah is the one on the left.
“Our mother works in Santa Cruz.” They point at each other again, and it reminds me of Tweedledee and Tweedledum in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Very whimsical. But then Micah gives a cruel smirk and ruins the illusion.
“How do