Thankfully I don’t get to fret over how terrible of a person I am because my mom chooses that moment to walk into the house.
“What smells?” she calls from the front door and Jay swings his wide eyes my way.
“Stall her,” Jay says, shoving me toward the living room, as he jumps into action.
I stumble out of the door right as she’s taking off her shoes. “What happened to you?”
I glance down at my still wet shirt. Oh, right. My shirt looks like I put it on right out of the washer.
“I was doing dishes, and a spoon got me.” I force a laugh, praying she doesn’t see right through my lie since all I want to do is shout the truth.
“Okay. Why don’t you go wash up for dinner? I figured we would go out tonight.”
I narrow my eyes at her. She never wants to go out.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to go out? You hate restaurants. You always say you can cook it better and the last time we went for Jay’s graduation you sent your food back three times.”
She huffs, dropping her heels on the ground next to my dusty tennis shoes. “Why do you have to be difficult about everything?”
“I’m just wondering if my mom is a pod person.”
“Lyla Ann Underwood, go change and stop aggravating me.”
“Fine.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “Give me thirty minutes.”
“Please wash your hair and put on something besides jeans. This is a nice restaurant.”
Rolling my eyes, I walk past the kitchen where Jay is tossing the rest of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. When he catches my eyes, his brows shoot up in a silent question.
I shrug because I have no idea why we are going out as a family. Before I left, she was barely home for dinner, and then when she was, all she wanted to do was talk about college.
Whatever.
She just wants to show off her perfect college son to the town.
As I shut my door behind me, I dig my phone out of my pocket. Still no word from Shane, but I have six texts from Scarlett.
I shoot off a text telling her Momzilla is forcing dinner on us, then I pull up a new text conversation with Shane. Without thinking about it too hard, I type out a casual message asking how his mom is and if he’s settling in okay. I manage not to tell him I miss seeing him every day. Or that he should run for the hills because Jay will for sure be out for blood.
Not even one minute later, my phone dings as I’m tossing my soaking wet shirt into the hamper. A stupid smile breaks out all over my face when I see Shane’s name on the screen.
Shane: Sorry I’ve been MIA. Getting Mom settled. Maybe we can meet up for lunch tomorrow?
Me: Yes please.
Shane: Can’t wait. Is it weird to say I miss seeing you every day?
Me: I miss you too
Somehow I manage to erase the giddiness from my face by the time I step out into the hall. What a disaster that would be if I ran into Jay or my mom. They could get the truth out of me in five seconds flat.
With a new lightness in my chest that will carry me through this disastrous dinner, I hop in the shower and do as my mom asks, washing my hair twice for good measure.
By the time I’m dressed she’s pacing around the living room and Jay is sitting in the armchair in the corner watching her with the same suspicious expression I’m sure is on my face.
“Finally,” she snaps when she sees me. “We’re going to be late now. Throw on your shoes and let’s go.”
“I wasn’t aware there was a time constraint,” I mumble as I walk to the coat closet and pick out a black pair of flats to match the black-and-white polka dot dress I threw on.
“Why would we go to a restaurant without reservations?”
“Why would we go to a restaurant at all?”
Jay stands behind Mom and is trying not to laugh as steam prepares to shoot out of her ears.
Yes, I shouldn’t wind her up, but she makes it too easy.
“I’ll drive, Mama,” Jay says, coming to my rescue before she loses it. When she grabs her purse and stomps out the door, he shoots me a what are you doing? look.
All I can do is shrug. Sure, I could play along and be the perfect daughter, but after eighteen years I’m kinda sick of it.
“Cool it or she’s really going to kill me when she finds out about Alina.”
Right. So, he wasn’t doing anything but looking out for himself.
“Whatever,” I mumble.
Now I’m in a terrible mood. Not even another text from Shane could quell the irritation swirling inside my gut.
Why couldn’t camp be longer than three weeks?
Last night’s dinner went about as well as I expected. It ended up being more than the three of us since Mom invited half of her office so she could show off her perfect son. That oh-so-perfect son chickened out and didn’t breach the topic of his secret girlfriend, which left me grinding my teeth every time Mom asked us what was wrong. Later he told me he texted her not to come and would figure out a different time to tell Mom.
The fact that he blabbed to me, then refused to go through with his plan, annoys me more than anything. There isn’t enough room for my own secret, let alone an extra one added on top.
Once again I’m left wishing Shane and I were still in our bubble at camp. At least sneaking around and hiding from Mr. River would result in being sent home, not an all-out war between Mom and me and Shane and Jay.
Which is why I’m sneaking out my bedroom window to go meet Shane for lunch. We texted back and forth a bit this morning and I delayed our meetup hoping my lazy brother would pull himself from the couch and go find something interesting to do. But he didn’t. And since lunch is about to roll into dinner, I found myself with little other choice but to sneak out. There’s no way in hell Jay would let me leave without asking a bunch of questions. Sure, I could use Scar as an alibi, but I risk her accidentally slipping up.
So, yeah. Here I am, cursing as I battle my way through the bushes my mom planted under my window. I wonder if she did it on purpose to deter me from doing what I’m doing right now.
I slip out without face-planting only for my stupid laces catch on a branch and end up falling into a heap on the grass.
Mr. Mitchell next door gives me a weird look as he’s wheeling out his lawn mower, so I give him a lame wave and stand up.
There goes looking cute.
Now a huge grass stain covers my right knee and my once white shoes are splattered in mud.
Well, whatever. Shane saw me without a stitch of makeup and sweaty as hell for three weeks at camp. If he thought for one second, I would morph into someone like Scarlett once we got back that’s on him.
This is such a dumb idea. I should have canceled lunch with Shane or rescheduled for a time Jay would be gone, but a seriously insecure part of me was worried that if he didn’t hang out with me soon, he might get bored or realize that all we had was a summer fling.
With all the stealth of a freaking rhino, I creep across the lawn to the driveway. I’ve seen this in movies and I swear it seemed so much easier. Then again, those kids are shrouded in darkness since most of the time they are sneaking in or out past curfew. Here I am sneaking out in broad daylight. No wonder Mr. Mitchell looked at me as if I was a total weirdo.
I manage to make it to my car and hiss when I remember that I don’t own some fancy new electric hybrid vehicle. Sunshine was built in the 80s. She’s loud and proud and will alert the entire neighborhood of my departure.