Chapter 26
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
“How come you didn’t text me back?” Peyton whines.
I lift my tank, exposing my belly button ring. “Lost my laptop and cell because of this.”
Peyton touches it and her sister winces. “Did it hurt?”
I lower my top. “It hurt more getting my devices taken away, actually,” I admit, taking a bite of my turkey sandwich. My lunches have been so good all week, and when I pointed that out to Peyton, she said, ‘they always are, Jo.’
Dad and I haven’t talked more than a few words all week. After I walked in on him and Miss Rivers doing god only knows what, he came into my room and simply said, “She’s gone, and the only way she comes back is if you’re okay with it. So if and when you’re ready to talk, let me know.”
He’s been sulky and mopey all week, and in the worst way, too. When I’m around, he whistles and listens to the news really loudly on his phone, as if everything were normal. But when I’m floating down the hall and he thinks I’m already in my room, his shoulders slouch. He grips the edge of the counter and stares off into space. And at night, he doesn’t even go into the garage and leatherwork like usual.
I don’t know how long he and Miss Riley were going behind my back. It couldn’t have been that long. I mean, she even said she didn’t know he was my dad until that night she gave me a ride. That was only a few weeks ago.
Whatever.
I take another bite of my sandwich and listen to Peyton talk about the pop quiz in her science class this morning. Before school started, I hung with the cheerleaders near the rally court and drank my coffee. I've started to spend lunch time with Peyton and Cassidy again, and I’m finding the mix of both of my groups of friends really good. Aside from my favorite teacher, coach and confidant screwing my dad behind my back, the rest of life is… finally looking up.
Miss Riley has been purposefully distant all week. Whatever part of me that wanted her to beg for forgiveness and try to kiss my ass went out the window when I saw her Monday morning .
She looked like absolute shit. Her eyes were so puffy and swollen, I knew she’d been crying all night. Her clothes were wrinkled, her hair was wrapped into a messy bun, and when Miss Caine made a shitty comment about her appearance, Miss Rivers didn’t even seem to hear it.
Today at cheer, she hasn’t even given us direct instruction. She actually asked Miss Caine to have us run through the dance until practice’s end, and went outside. I didn’t want to be concerned, I wanted to just say fuck her, but deep down, I miss talking to her. And whether it has anything to do with my dad or not, I don’t want her to feel sad. I’m just… hurt.
“Psst,” Alexa calls from the spot where the freshman girls are huddled.
“What?” Kelly calls back.
“Did you see the guy Miss Riley was talking to this morning at her car?” Alexa asks. She wrinkles her nose. “That’s so not who I pictured her with.”
The girls know my dad. So there is no way that my dad showed up at Bluebell High this morning trying to win her back. They’d just say they saw my dad. But they aren’t saying that, so it’s not him. It’s someone else and something else is clearly going on.
I hope she’s okay, but the pain of her lie lingers, and I can’t bring myself to ask her when she finally rejoins us in the gym ten minutes before the end of practice. She watches us run through the dance one more time, making minimal corrections. When practice is over, I spot her in the parking lot, talking to some man. Grabbing a ride with Carrie, I slip into the passenger seat of her mom’s minivan, and roll the window down as we pass by.
“We’re not playing games anymore,” the man says to her, lowering his voice as we slowly drive past. He lifts a hand in a passive wave, smiling a phony smile. I look at Miss Riley, but she doesn’t look at me. Her eyes stay pinned to the ground.
I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not my problem.
The drive home is smooth, and jealousy twists my insides as I listen to Carrie’s mom tell her about the amazing shopping trip she has planned for them this weekend. I miss my mom, yeah, but right now, I miss Miss Riley.
After thanking them and waving them off, I drop my bag on the floor and kick off my shoes inside the house, heading straight for the kitchen. On the table is a cut up pizza, the kind you make at home from your freezer. Dad comes in from the garage, a six pack of beer pinched in his fingers.
“Didn’t feel like cooking, I hope freezer pizza is okay,” he says, lifting a beer from the pack before stuffing the rest into the fridge. He grabs three slices, stacking them on each other, and sets them on a plate. Even though his tone is light, bags hang beneath his eyes.
“It’s fine.” I grab a slice and take a bite.
“How was practice?” he asks.
I forgo the information about Miss Riley and the man shouting at her by the car. If Miss Riley was in trouble, she’d ask for help. If something was up, she’d have called out or looked around in the parking lot.
“Fine,” I tell him, then I head down the hall to eat my pizza alone.