11. Sorry Not Sorry
SORRY NOT SORRY
I’ve become a habitual rule-breaker.
In the two weeks since Jase first convinced me to sneak out of the house, I’ve proceeded to do it every day thereafter.
I know, I know. It doesn’t sound like much in the grand scheme of things, especially when most of the “sneaking” is done in broad daylight.
But the last time I blatantly broke a house rule was when I stole extra Halloween candy from my Trick-Or-Treat bag at age eleven, so this is new territory for me.
I figured Jase would eventually find something better to do with his time, but during the mornings when nobody’s here, he always swings by the house, and we find ourselves cutting through the neighbors’ yards until we eventually reach the main drag.
Jase waves a hand in front of my face as we pass a jewelry shop, apparently noticing my lack of focus on the scenery. “What’s going on in that worrisome brain of yours?”
I try to shrug it off, but the issue still bugs me since I noticed it. “I’m about ninety-nine percent sure my stepmom blocks my phone number when she leaves the house.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Anytime she’s annoyed with me, which is most of the time, I can’t ever get a hold of her.
And when she gets home, she’ll show my dad her phone to ‘prove’ she never received my messages, claiming there must just be something wrong with the network.
Because God forbid your stepdaughter, who’s under house arrest by your order, dare ask you to pick up yogurt from the grocery store you’re already going to. ”
Jase appears to mull this over, abruptly taking hold of my waist and directing me to the nearest bench.
To say I’m confused would be an understatement, especially when he tells me not to move before quite literally running off.
Thankfully, the spot is in the shade, and the foot traffic is minimal here this time of day, so I’m not at risk of being spotted.
However, when five minutes go by without any sign of Jase returning, I start to stand.
Just as I’m about to push up off the bench, someone holds a plastic cup in front of me.
One look at its contents has the stupidest grin spreading across my face.
“If she wants to be the evil stepmother, then I will gladly take up the role as your fairy godmother,” Jase declares, planting himself beside me with a cup of his own. “And I’d say I brought you the best kind of yogurt.”
Indeed he did. Not only has Jase just gotten me yogurt, he bought the frozen variety from Elsa’s Ice Cream Parlor they hurt that bad.
I hoped softball might be better, but as you can see,” I say, holding out my pin-thin arms as evidence, “I’m rather lacking in upper body strength.
And it didn’t help that Mona Thomas hit me in the face with a bat. ”
He instantly sat up. “She what? ”
I shake my head, unable to hold back a laugh.
“It wasn’t on purpose. She had never played before, and apparently no one told her you needed to keep holding the bat after you swung at the ball, because the bat flew from her hands and went right off into the sidelines by the dugout, hitting me square in the mouth. ”
“Jesus.”
“Thankfully, I didn’t break any teeth or anything, but it hurt so much as to chew, so I had to live off ice cream and mashed potatoes for a couple of weeks. And don’t even get me started on my basketball tryouts.”
A nervous laugh bubbles up from his chest, the unspoken question hanging in midair.
I heave out a sigh. “Long story short, the girls’ basketball team takes things a little too seriously.
Given that I’m almost a foot shorter than everybody else, the impact doesn’t align with my waist when they hip check.
A lot of pain and one doctor visit later, I found out Annie Cutler dislocated my rib.
When it comes to anything athletically inclined, I’m pretty much the textbook definition of Murphy’s Law. ”
“So you’re like the Stanley Yelnats of sports?”
“…Who?”
I’m not sure what I’ve said, but Jase looks affronted.
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”
I shake my head, confused.
“ Holes .”
I now shrug, because…I’m still not sure what he’s talking about.
“Oh dear God.” Before I even have a chance to sit up, Jase has one arm cradled under my legs and the other around my back. He hauls me off the floor and begins carrying me through the arcade towards the closest exit.
“What’re you doing?”
He grins. “Rectifying a terrible injustice.”
Thankfully, Jase doesn’t carry me through the entire mall, and we soon find ourselves trekking through the neighborhood on foot. This wouldn’t be a problem…if it wasn’t smack-dab in the middle of Kensington, the very street the country club is located on.