Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Wren
2011-Eleventh Grade
Making myself cozy in the living room was easy. All I need is my laptop, a blanket, and my cell phone. Not that I think anyone will text me. It’s just nice to have. The problem is, there’s nothing for me to do. Theo usually keeps me occupied, but he’s not here, which means I’m sitting in my game just as bored as I am in real life.
With a sigh, I check my phone and groan when I see it’s only eight p.m. What am I supposed to do for the next four hours until my body decides it’s time to go to sleep?
A loud slam echoes from upstairs, followed by my sisters’ raised voices as they yell at one another.
“I told you not to use my iPod without my permission!” Amelia shouts.
“I asked you two hours ago! It’s not my fault you forgot!” Pen hollers back.
“You never asked!”
“I did too!”
The floorboards creak under their stomping feet, and I flinch as the yelling resumes.
“You’re so annoying!” Pen states.
“You’re so?—”
“Guys!” I shout, but they don’t give me the time of day.
“I’m telling Mom when she gets home,” Amelia huffs.
“Go ahead, I’ll tell her how big of a liar you are!”
Right on cue, a car pulls into the driveway. Mom must have gotten a ride home from a coworker. Thank god.
I lean back and peek out the curtain, and my mouth turns dry when I see her with a guy I’m all too familiar with. He’s younger, around early twenties, if I were to guess, and they look far too close.
My heart crawls into my throat, hammering blood through my veins. My stomach twists, heat rises up my neck at the sight of her cozying up with him, and it only gets worse when another door slams.
“Pen! Stop slamming the door!” I yell.
“Stay out of this, Wren!” she screams.
“Just stop for one second, okay!?” My throat is raw; I’m not used to screaming. Frankly, I despise it.
Their voices rise, filling the house with tension. It’s always been like this—ever since I was a kid, really. The yelling, the slammed doors... It’s like every wall in this place has soaked up years of it, ready to echo it all back at me when things get quiet.
“Were you in my room!?” Pen must have hurled her door open because it rattles against the wall.
“What did I just say!?”
But I don’t get a response.
Instead, they argue over one another, caught up in a storm I can’t see the eye of.
I grab my phone and call Mom. “Please pick up,” I beg, but she doesn’t.
Looking back outside, I see her as clear as day, giggling and touching the guy’s arm. My fingers slam the button, and I call her again. It rings and rings until it goes to her voicemail. I push to my feet and stalk toward the stairs, readying myself to face those two hurricanes.
“What’s going on?” Mom asks while opening the front door.
Whirling around, I direct all my rage at the person who deserves it. “I’ve been calling you.”
“I didn’t notice?—”
“Who was that?” I point at the car driving away. “You were too busy with some guy that you didn’t pay attention to your children, which you can hear, are in desperate need of parental control.”
“Why didn’t you step in?” She drops her bag on the floor.
“I tried?—”
“You’re in charge while I’m at work and Dad is out. You should have fixed this before it even started.”
“How can I do that if?—”
“Don’t talk back!” Her face wrinkles as her mouth tightens. “I’m the parent.”
“Then act like it!” I shout, and everything goes quiet.
“You can’t talk to me like that,” she hisses. “I’ll be telling your father about this.”
“Go ahead. Do it. Let’s see who he believes” is what I want to say. Instead, I cower, and flight or fight kicks in.
“Girls!” Mom hollers while taking the stairs. “Enough!”
I snatch my phone off the table, slip on a pair of flip-flops, and dart out the front door.
I don’t know where I’m going; I just can’t be here. My feet take one step and then another as I fight the tears that threaten. A normal parent would text their daughter if she left abruptly after a fight like that, but my mom isn’t normal, and she doesn’t give a damn about me. If she did, she would have answered the phone when I called.
“I hate her,” I mumble as a tear slips free, and I wrap my arms around myself. “I can’t do this anymore?—”
“Wren?” Mal’s voice brings me to a stop.
I glance to my right and quickly realize where my legs brought me.
“Are you okay?” She closes her car door and approaches me with a soft yet worried expression.
I’m about to lie and say I’m okay, but Malory always breaks down my walls. “I had a fight with my mom.”
With a gentle nod, she reaches for my hand and tilts her head toward the house. “Come inside.”
The moment I walk through the front door, the weight on my shoulders lifts. I glance up the stairs, wondering if Theo is home. I should have texted him, but my body was running faster than my mind.
“He might be taking a nap,” Malory says. “Why don’t you go wake him up? We can make cookies afterward and watch a movie.” My lips curl into a small, forlorn smile, but before I can say anything, she adds, “I have the proper ingredients, so they’ll be gluten-free.” She tousles my hair, and my heart lightens.
“Really?” I ask, my cheeks lifting with my grin.
“Really,” she says with a genuine smile.
“Okay, I’ll go wake him.” I start up the stairs and stop myself before walking right in. “Theo?” I call while knocking. “Are you decent?”
He doesn’t say anything, so I take my chance and crack the door open. His room is dark, but I can make out his figure under the blankets. I tiptoe in and admire him for a moment. Those dark curls are mussed, and his lips form a natural pout.
My stomach twists with nerves, and my heart is fluttering.
It’s been difficult to push aside my feelings, but I’ve been managing. It’s moments like this where my composure wavers. Theo is my best friend. I shouldn’t want more, but I do. Even if I know he’s too good for me—someone who’s always sick and seeking comfort. And I can’t run the risk of admitting my feelings and losing him.
“Theo?” I whisper, sitting beside him. “Wake up.”
He grumbles in his sleep and frowns. “Five more hours.”
I squeeze his shoulder and shake him. “Wake up.”
He grunts and blinks a few times before locking his eyes with mine. “Wren? When did you get here?”
“A few minutes ago?—”
Theo slides his arms around my waist, warm and solid, and pulls me into him. His scent—a mix of soap and something uniquely him—wraps around me, grounding me, and his low hum rumbles against my cheek as I settle into the curve of his neck. It’s such a simple touch, yet my heartbeat thrums, his heat easing the tension in my body, and for a moment, it seems like he’s holding me together.
Just friends.
“Are you okay?” he whispers in my ear, sending chills down my spine.
I nod with a sigh. His touch always makes me feel better. It’s like he knew I needed a hug; it’s like he knows I’m better when he’s around.
“I missed you.” His voice is still groggy from sleep, lower and almost darker. “I’d keep you here forever if I could.”
“And I’d stay if I could,” I admit, noticing my lips are against his neck.
His chest rises and falls with a long exhale, and even though I don’t want to, I let go. “Come on, we’re going to make cookies.”
He sits up and runs his fingers through his hair. “Okay, but only because you’re here.”
When Theo and I make it downstairs, Malory’s already bustling around the kitchen, pulling out bowls and ingredients, muttering to herself about “softened butter” and “getting the oven preheated this time.”
Her eyes light up when we walk in. “There you are! About time.” She teases us, shooting Theo a playful glare. “I had half a mind to get started without you two, but then I remembered I need someone tall to reach the chocolate chips.”
“Just admit you need me, Mom.” Theo grins, rolling up his sleeves. He nudges me. “Wren, grab an apron. Can’t have you running off mid-cookies because flour ruined your fancy clothes.”
I glance down at my hoodie and torn sweatpants. “Clearly, my glamour is lost on you.” I snort, reaching for an apron hanging on a hook.
Malory hands me a whisk with a look that says she’s about to put me to work, and I can’t help but smile. It’s been a while since I felt this... at ease.
“Now, Wren,” Malory says, her tone mock stern, “I know Theo will have you believe he’s some kind of baking prodigy, but let’s be honest. His specialty is standing around and eating the cookie dough.”
“Mom, you’re ruining my mystique here!” Theo protests, feigning shock as he grabs the bag of chocolate chips from the cabinet. “And for the record, I am a fantastic stirrer.”
“Uh-huh,” she replies, giving me a sly wink. “You’ll have to keep an eye on him, Wren. If you don’t, half the chocolate chips will be gone before they even touch the batter.”
I laugh, glancing over at Theo, who, predictably, is already sneaking a handful of chips.
“Consider me on chip-guard duty, then,” I say, pretending to narrow my eyes at him.
Theo raises his hands in surrender. “Caught red-handed. Guess you’re going to have to show me how it’s done, Wren.”
We set to work, and Malory talks us through each step, making sure I’m comfortable with the ingredients. As I crack eggs and measure gluten-free flour, a strange warmth settles inside me.
Theo and Malory keep the banter flowing, trading quips and bickering like it’s a sport. When Theo messes up the sugar measurement, Malory smacks him with a dishtowel, making me laugh so hard I nearly spill the vanilla extract.
“See, Wren’s got it together.” She looks pointedly at Theo, who’s giving me a wounded look.
Leaning close, Theo says in a conspiratorial whisper, “The real question is, who do you trust more? Me or the woman who forgot the baking soda last time?”
Malory gasps in mock outrage. “Oh, don’t even start! That was a onetime thing, and I was very sleep-deprived.”
“Of course,” Theo says, giving me a smirk. “Just wait, Wren. You’ll be finding cookies as flat as pancakes if you don’t keep her on her toes.”
Malory rolls her eyes and turns to me with a grin. “Don’t listen to him. He just likes to pretend he’s the expert, even though I taught him everything he knows.”
“Everything? That’s a stretch, Mom.” Theo scoops some flour, flicking a little on Malory’s apron with a grin. “Look at you. Just itching for a food fight.”
“Oh, please. I would win,” she laughs, reaching for a spoonful of cookie dough, but Theo swats her hand away.
“Not until they’re in the oven!” he says, trying to hold back his laughter.
As I watch them, I loosen up, the stress of earlier finally falling away. For once, I don’t have to feel responsible, like I’m the one keeping everyone else together. I’m just here, in the moment, surrounded by this chaotic, comforting energy.
“All right, Wren,” Theo says, passing me a spoon and gesturing to the mixing bowl. “Moment of truth. You get to do the final stir. Only the chosen few have this privilege.”
I roll my eyes, suppressing a smile. “Well, I’m honored, truly.”
I stir the dough, and with each turn of the spoon, a sense of contentment grows. It’s almost surreal—like I’ve stepped into a world where it’s okay to laugh, where it’s normal to be this close to people without feeling out of place.
After the cookies are scooped and in the oven, Theo plops on the couch and grabs the remote.
“Find us a movie to watch!” Malory calls as she cleans her hands. “Better yet, let Wren choose.”
I take the seat beside Theo, and our knees brush. I swear his cheeks turn pink, but it might be my imagination.
“Let me make a wild guess.” He side-eyes me. “A princess movie?”
“Please,” I say with a soft smile.
“The one with the wild hair?”
“You mean Brave ?” I chuckle.
“You’re lucky I like that one.”
I nudge his arm playfully, and he grins. As I lean back, Theo drapes his arm over my shoulders, and my internal temperature rises.
It’s around 10:30 p.m. by the time the cookies are done. Malory set us up with bowls of vanilla ice cream.
“This is why I need a daughter,” she says. “Theo never watches these with me.”
“I am right now,” he sasses.
“Only because Wren is here.”
I look down at my bowl, and nerves gather in my stomach. This looks too good to be safe for me to eat. Yet, I know it is because I helped bake them. I read each ingredient three times. This won’t make me sick; there’s no way it can.
With a moment of trepidation, I place a piece of the cookie in my mouth, and I almost whimper. I can’t recall the last time I ate something this divine.
“These are fantastic,” I tell her. “Thank you, this means a lot to me.”
Malory saw me in my hour of need and didn’t push me away. Instead, she took me in and made me feel at home. She made me realize that someone other than Theo cares for me. She makes me feel like I’m worth the extra mile.
“You’re welcome, my love,” she says in the lounge chair across the room. “Just be glad Theo didn’t burn them.”
“Hey,” he says, his mouth full of ice cream. “I would never.”
She eyes him, and I can’t help but chuckle. “Thank you for not burning anything.” I playfully nudge him.
“Yeah, yeah, just resume the movie.”
Once I finish my bowl, I lean against Theo’s shoulder and allow myself to relax. I ignore Malory’s eager grin and how Theo traces shapes on my forearm. The argument with my mom vanishes from my mind. I don’t have to be in survival mode, not while I’m here.
I simply exist.