Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I still feel like hell by 8:00. I guess I’m not making it to school today. It feels like there’s a jackhammer in my head, and every time I try to sit up, I get too dizzy and have to lie back down.
What I want more than anything is to go back to sleep, but I can’t rest until I call school. It’s going to be hanging over my head all day if I don’t.
“Hi,” I murmur, eyes closed. “This is Morgan. I’m sick. I’m not going to be able to come to school today.”
“I’m afraid that’s not enough.”
I open one eye, staring at the ceiling. “What do you mean?”
“We require a parent or guardian to make a call like this.”
They’ve got to be kidding. “My mom is out of town. Mr. Ambrose, too.”
“You’re going to have to get one of them to call.”
This is a bad joke, right? I can’t handle this right now. “But they’re not here. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
“Until one of them calls, this will not be considered an excused absence.”
“I am sick in bed. If somebody wants to come to the house, they can see it for themselves.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not going to happen.”
“Well, I think this whole thing is pretty dumb.” I end the call before I say something I can’t take back, then squeeze my eyes shut before any tears can fall.
Can just one person be on my side for once? Why does everything have to be a struggle? Yeah, I might like a mom who gives a shit about me, who doesn’t randomly take weekend trips without any indication of where she’s going or when she’ll come back. I might like a mom who actually cares when I’m sick and does all those nice things moms are supposed to do, like make chicken soup and put on my favorite movies. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? What’s so wrong with me that I couldn’t have that?
I’m barely asleep again when the phone buzzes. I expect it to be somebody from school calling to yell at me for hanging up, but it’s worse than that. “Hell, no,” I whisper when I see MOM on my screen. If I ignore the call, it will only get worse.
She doesn’t give me time to say anything before laying into me. “What do you think you’re doing? Get your ass out of bed and get to school. Do you think I enjoy getting calls like that while I’m on a trip?”
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Oh, no. You’re not going to give me any of your attitude when you’re the one ruining my vacation.” Vacation? From what?
“Mom, I’m sick.”
“And what’s wrong with you? Were you out last night? Did you go to a party?”
“No.”
“Are you lying?”
“No. Call Bridget and ask her. I was home all night.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know. Jesus. I’m just sick to my stomach. I guess I picked up a bug.”
“Well, that’s just terrific. Your timing has always been impeccable.”
“I’m not asking you to do anything for me.”
“It’s a little too late for that. I already got a phone call from school telling me my kid didn’t bother showing up today. Do you know how that made me look? I didn’t even know you were sick. I had to pretend.”
“Am I supposed to apologize? Sorry, next time I’ll get sick when it’s more convenient for you.”
“I know you think you can get away with your smart-ass attitude because I’m not there, but I will be soon enough. And I’ll remember this.”
Terrific, something to look forward to. “I really feel sick. I was up all night throwing up. I just want to go back to sleep.”
“Are you sure you haven’t been doing anything you shouldn’t?”
All I can see in my head is the empty Plan B box in the trash can under the bathroom sink. “I’m sure.”
“Don’t make it so I can’t trust you when I’m away. Don’t ruin this for me.”
“Mom, I told you. I’m not doing anything I shouldn’t do.” I’ve lied to her so many times, always because I had to protect myself. From her temper, from her boyfriends, whatever. I’m protecting myself from her temper now, too, only there’s a difference. This time, I have been doing things I shouldn’t do. I am in the wrong. I can pretend all I want that this is all Hayes’s fault, but it isn’t. Because I wanted it. He hates me, but I still want him.
“You’d better not be, because we won’t be home for another few days.”
Good. It doesn’t seem right, being this relieved that she won’t be home. “Why not? I thought you were only away for the weekend.”
“He extended the trip to make up for coming home early last time. He’s so impulsive, but once he sets his mind to something, there’s no changing it.”