Chapter 12
MILLER
“Are you coming for a drive to town?” Dad poked his head in my bedroom door where I was still under my blankets.
He had his first weekend off for months and was going to Pine Ridge so Mason could spend his book voucher.
Originally, I said yes, but since discovering the envelope, I’d been in a bad mood and couldn’t get past it.
It had dragged on for a week now, and the countless times Dad had asked what my problem was, I’d shrugged and muttered ‘Nothing’ and shut myself in my room or taken off on my bike. I hadn’t even helped him on the Mustang which was not like me at all.
“Nah,” I groaned, pretending I’d been asleep.
“Come on, what’s wrong with you?” Dad snapped. “Get yourself out of bed!”
“I’m going mountain biking with Brayden later,” I lied, which immediately made me feel bad, but I could make it happen.
Dad grunted and shook his head, slamming my door in much the way I’d been doing all week. I waited till I heard his truck go before getting out of bed.
Luckily, Brayden was cool for mountain biking, but it had to be now, because he had plans in the afternoon. I got myself ready in record time and arranged to meet up at the trail.
I was being a fool over the whole birthday card thing, I knew that, overthinking it when a simple conversation could fix it. But I seemed intent on holding onto the misery, to punish Dad and Mason. In other words, be a jerk.
I’d pretty much ignored Mason all week, not checking on him at lunch break or asking about his school work. Though, to be fair, he’d been hanging out in his room after dinner, probably reading. I’d noticed a new book with a green cover and the 467 page book was no longer around.
But the idea of a confrontation and learning the truth terrified me. What if Mom and Dad and Mason were in this cozy secret relationship and I was on the outer? What if they were bonding and playing happy families without me?
My lack of focus caused me to miscalculate a corner and my bike ended up at a standstill on the narrow trail.
Brayden, close behind, didn’t react quick enough and rammed into me.
We ended up a tangle of bikes and bodies.
Picking ourselves up, Brayden ranted about why I’d stopped so suddenly.
I’d blasted his slow reflexes, but we laughed hysterically over the silly crash.
And it was the best I’d felt for a few days.
I stopped at Brayden’s house to clean up after the fall and his Mom invited me to stay for lunch. I couldn’t refuse, especially as there was nothing to rush home to. Dad had texted that he and Mase would catch a movie, fueling my conspiracy theory over the cozy family scenario.
We made our own sandwiches and sat out on the Sims’s back patio. Brayden’s younger sister, Abby, brought out cans of soda and a plate of chocolate chip cookies.
“Did you make these?” I asked Abby, taking the biggest one. Cycling—and no breakfast—meant I was starving.
“Yep,” she said.
“They’re so good,” I mumbled with my mouth full. For all my cooking skills, neither Dad nor I had learned how to bake. Oreos were our go-to cookie treat. I was hoping I’d learn some recipes in the Health and Nutrition class.
We chatted about the Spud Harvest, the word out that it was going to be the following week.
Brayden had decided not to do it. The soccer team played two games a week and with a heavy training schedule, he didn’t want the added pressure of working, especially as he hoped for a scholarship.
Plus, he didn’t need the money like I did.
“How’d your soccer game go?” I asked Abby, who was sipping on a sugar-free soda.
“Not good,” Abby said with a pout. “We lost 6-1.”
“Geez, that sounds more like a tennis score,” I joked.
“That’s two losses out of two,” Abby said. “We lost our first game 8 to nil.”
“Wow.” I tried not to laugh at the annihilation.
But Brayden was less sensitive. “Your team sucks,” he chuckled.
Abby scrunched her nose. “Yeah, well everyone’s wondering why Sadie got in the team and the new girl didn’t.”
“The new girl?” I asked, weirdly breathless with anticipation that she was referring to Quinn.
“You know, Quinn,” Brayden chipped in, confirming it.
“Quinn didn’t make the team? But I’ve seen her out running. I thought she was in training.”
Abby shook her head. “Nah. Coach didn’t select her. Which was strange because she was one of the best at tryouts.”
“What?” I said. “Why wouldn’t you include the best players in the team?”
“Um, I don’t think Livvy and some of the others wanted her in the team,” Abby said.
“Why not?”
“You know, ‘prep school princess,’” Abby said, gesturing with air quotes. “She arrived in a Brizendine soccer shirt at first practice.”
“Ha! That’s not exactly cool,” Brayden said with a laugh.
“Yeah, but not a reason not to make the cut,” I said, the edge in my voice surprising me, and definitely surprising Brayden.
“Oooh, I know you guys are neighbors but I didn’t know you cared about her so deeply,” he teased.
I made a humph sound and glowered at him. It made no sense that I was defending her. “I’ve hardly spoken two words to her,” I said, “but it doesn’t seem fair just because she comes from Brizendine.”
“And now I think some of the girls are thinking the same thing,” Abby said. “After Middleton thrashed us, Emma and Jess were asking why she didn’t make the team. And even Livvy was frustrated.”
“So Livvy was livid,” Brayden joked, but then he got serious. “Come to think of it, Quinn never came to lunch all week.”
“Anyone going to the Owls away game?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
I’d noticed Quinn hadn’t been in the cafeteria too, but never queried it.
Probably hanging out with Ronan King. Now that I no longer took the bus, Health and Nutrition class was the only place I’d seen her and somehow Ash had managed to sit between us this week.
I finished my soda and headed home. My bike rattled as I rode, making me suspect I’d loosened something when I fell.
It annoyed me so much that by the time I got to the corner of Ambrose Lane, I jumped off and pushed it, hoping to see if I could identify the culprit.
More than likely a loose bolt somewhere.
But it wasn’t just my bike that had me seething.
It was Quinn not making the soccer team and kids being mean to her because she came from Brizendine.
That was despicable. And yet—I’d ignored the bullying on the bus, turned a blind eye as if it was no concern of mine.
I was no better, in fact, that made me worse.
Because I’d seen the effects of bullying on my own brother, knew how sad and withdrawn he became—and I’d done nothing to stop it.
I could see the Fisher twins on their driveway washing their father’s car, so I put my head down, not particularly wanting to make eye contact.
“Hey, Miller!”
I looked up in feigned shock as if I hadn’t seen them and lifted my hand in a half-hearted wave. Shutting off the hose and jogging over, I recognized Chloe leading the way, Cassie wearing a cap, close behind.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hey, how’s Mason?”
“Mason?” I shrugged at her unexpected question. “Uh...fine?”
Chloe breathed out a sigh of relief and looked at her sister. “Ah, that’s good.”
But I had a feeling she wasn’t referring to his general health. “What do you mean?”
“Yesterday. He didn’t tell you?” Chloe’s gray eyes widened.
“Tell me what? What happened yesterday?” I barked, already triggered that this couldn’t be good. Neither of the Fisher twins were the type to speak for the sake of small talk.
“Um, a couple of kids were bullying Mason. They’ve been—”
My heart thundered in my chest as a flush of heat seared across my face. I gripped the handlebars tighter, rage exploding in a roar, “What? When?”
Chloe shuddered, retreating a step closer to Cassie. “On the bus. Since you stopped riding it.”
“What are they doing?”
Chloe shrugged, her cheeks reddening. “Just name calling.”
“And teasing,” Cassie added.
“But yesterday,” Chloe said, “they threw his stuff around and—”
“They were going to throw his inhaler,” Cassie said.
“Out the window,” Chloe finished.
“But Quinn...”
“You know, the prep school girl.”
“She stormed to the back of the bus.”
“And demanded Jordan hand it over.”
At this point I was almost getting whiplash trying to follow the alternating narrative as each girl completed the other one’s sentence..
“She what?” I could feel color draining from my face, remembering how I’d hung out with Sierra and her boyfriend Zeb after school. We’d gone to her house and gamed and I stayed for pizza. When I’d gotten home, Mason had been in his room and I hadn’t even gone to see him.
“She grabbed the inhaler back.”
“And made Jordan pick up Mason’s hoodie.”
“And give back all his things.”
“Then she yelled at the driver.”
“Quinn walked him home.”
I frowned, my stomach twisting and knotting as the twins nodded in unison. “That’s why I asked if he was okay,” Chloe said.
I hopped back onto my bike in a daze, my head spinning like a tornado. I’d been a jerk, no doubt about it, and now Mason had been getting bullied on the bus and I didn’t know anything about it—all because I was jealous over him getting a birthday card from Mom.
I pedaled down the lane like I was in a race, braking sharply at the front gate.
My breathing was harsh and ragged as I fumbled with the latch and pushed my bike through, dumping it against the side of the house.
I walked around to the front door and unlocked it. Hamish padded out from the living room.
“Hey boy,” I said, scratching behind his ears.
He followed me to the couch where I flopped down with a groan of frustration.
I wasn’t one for talking out loud to myself, but the self-loathing needed an outlet.
“Am I the biggest jerk out? Like what the heck? How could I have been so mean to Mase? Grrrgh!”
I remembered back to the other day when I’d come into the living room to watch tv. He’d been curled up on the couch and was making a low humming sound which he often did when reading. Usually it was annoying but nothing to lose my head over. Except I did.
“Do you have to do that?” I’d shouted.
“Do what?” Mason had said, sitting up straight like he thought I’d meant taking up half the couch.
“That stupid humming. Can’t you just read in silence?” I’d switched on the tv and turned the volume up with no consideration that he was reading. He eventually retreated to his room.
Or when he said hello to me and I ignored him. Or when I’d snapped at him to clear the table when he was still eating his plate of spaghetti. Or told him to hurry up in the bathroom.
Yeah, I’d basically been a bully to him since seeing that envelope. And all the time, he was being bullied on the bus.
I wondered if that’s why Dad had taken him to the movies. As a treat, to cheer him up? Did he know about the bullying? And as for Quinn Devereaux...she’d saved him.
She’d done my job.
Yeah, I was supposed to be the one to protect Mason, not...her.
That was enough to want to poke pins in my eyes.
I jumped up off of the couch and went to the kitchen window, peering out from behind the curtain.
It was all quiet across the lane. In fact, it looked like the grass had been cut since I’d been out mountain biking.
An old man did the gardening for the Devereauxs, but I hadn’t seen him around for a while.
A few days ago, Dad had joked that he should report their untidy yard.
Of course he wouldn’t, but it was something Mrs. Devereaux wouldn’t hesitate to do.
Actually, the house we lived in had once belonged to the Ambrose Manor estate.
They’d owned the whole block and apparently the gardener had lived here.
That’s how rich they’d been, having a cottage for the gardener and stables for horses and there were probably servants quarters in that big old house.
I imagined it had a majestic sweeping stairway, high ornate ceilings, crystal chandeliers and plush carpets.
My attention fell to our front yard, the lawn a little long. Perhaps I could get back into the good books by mowing it before Dad and Mason came home. It was my job anyway, but to do it without any prompting would get me brownie points.
I opened the garage and pulled out the mower, a regular walk-behind one that used gas.
Our yard wasn’t really big enough to justify a riding mower, but I was envious of the Devereaux’s gardener and thought it would be cool to use one.
For good measure, I trimmed the edges, spending a lot of time around the front gate, my subconscious hoping to see Quinn.
Just to confirm the twins’ story, and then thank her for helping Mason.
That was the least I could do, enemy or not.
But as I put the mower away, I saw a black SUV making a slow approach down the lane.
I dashed inside the garage, hiding out of sight, a violent thump in my chest as I recognized the familiar ski rack.
A few seconds later Quinn came jogging down her driveway in a cute dress carrying a large bag.
I was hit with an illogical surge of rage, my blood boiling and veins swelling as the car stopped under the archway.
Was Quinn going on a date with Ronan King?
And was that an overnight bag she was carrying because it was definitely bigger than a normal size purse.
The passenger door closed and the car zoomed off, leaving me somewhat dazed.
Unreasonably, it felt like a punch to the gut, the air sucked out of me, a bizarre feeling of total desolation.
But that was outrageous, right? There was no sense to it. Quinn Devereaux was the enemy and I was absolutely not jealous that she was on a date with Ronan King.
No way. Not jealous at all.