Chapter 8 #2
I glanced around, suddenly realizing where I was and the fact that walking around in public with a brand new tablet in my hand maybe wasn’t the smartest idea.
Nobody was looking at me right now, so I opened my bag and stuffed the tablet box in, breathing a sigh of relief when it just managed to zip up over the corners.
Then I swung the backpack on my shoulders again, pulled my ponytail out, and started down the street, trying not to feel the disappointment that I hadn’t gone anywhere with Dad.
I mean, who was I to be ungrateful? He just bought me a tablet, for goodness’ sake.
And he just said he’d spend the whole day with me on Friday.
That should make up for the disappointment here, right?
But the feeling still lingered deep in my belly as I walked home.
When he texted me to meet up with him, I figured that maybe we would go out to dinner or something.
I mean, somewhere where we could go and nobody would see us, which I guess was a little limited, but still.
Maybe back to his flat, preferably without Hilary there since she had been there every single time I’d visited him as of late.
I thought there would be something more than just slipping into his car, getting a gift, and having to walk home again.
It wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t drive me home.
I knew that. Mum would flip if she saw his car anywhere near the house, and I didn’t want anybody else to know our secret.
But still, it was cold, my backpack was heavy, and by the time I’d walked one block, I was pretty much ready to collapse in bed.
Movement at the corner of my eye made me look up, and I blinked in surprise as I realized it was Cole.
For a second, I thought he was waving at me, and then I realized he hadn’t even noticed I was there.
The route I took went by the back of the coffee shop.
I had never thought about it before. But there he was, throwing the trash in the bin.
He closed the lid of the dumpster and started to turn my way, and I quickly ducked my head, hoping that he wouldn’t realize it was me.
The last thing I needed was for him to accuse me of stalking him after breaking into his flat on the weekend and then accidentally eavesdropping on him at his school last night.
I held my breath as I hurried by, half expecting him to call my name.
But he didn’t. And I felt a weird sense of disappointment at that.
As I glanced back and heard the door slam, I saw that he was gone.
Maybe he didn’t notice me, or maybe he didn’t want to talk to me.
I mean, after all of our encounters, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to talk to him.
I mean, why would he want to make conversation with a spoiled little rich girl, right?
The anger from the closet burned bright in me again.
I still hated the way he made so many assumptions about me.
Although with the way this tablet was now weighing down my backpack, I had to wonder if he was completely wrong about talking about my daddy’s money.
I kept my head down for the rest of the walk, grateful that nobody else seemed to be out. Although that gratefulness went away as soon as I opened my door and heard Mum call from the kitchen, “Imogen, I was wondering when you would get home.”
Crap. Not that I didn’t love talking to my mum.
She was great. But I couldn’t open my backpack in front of her.
I had to find a way to explain this away if I wanted to use the thing.
Part of me was tempted to just return it, tell Dad it was defective or something.
But then he would just buy me a new one.
And if I tried to return it without telling him about it, then he would insist on seeing it whenever I came to visit him. I was screwed.
“Come here, sweetie, I want to talk to you,” Mum called.
“One sec,” I called, trying to keep my voice light and breezy.
I kicked off my boots at the front door, shrugged off my coat, but carried my backpack in my hand as I went into the kitchen.
I needed to get this over with now. The longer I tried to hide it, the more likely it was going to come out some other way, and I wouldn’t have an excuse ready.
“I remember you mentioning you wanted to paint your room,” Mum said as soon as I walked into the kitchen.
She came over, gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the head, then slid some paint chips over toward me.
“I was thinking these colors. I know blue is your favorite, but I couldn’t decide on a shade. What do you think?”
I stared at the various shades of blue, not really seeing anything.
I had completely forgotten about telling her I wanted to paint my room.
That was back in the summer, before Dad left.
It was supposed to be a project that Dad and I were going to do together and then mom was going to add little details around my light switches and doorframe.
It was a family project, but now we weren’t a family anymore.
A lump appeared in my throat. I wanted to tell her to just forget about it, and I didn’t want to do it, but she’d already gone out of her way to find these paint chips, so I couldn’t shoot her down now, could I?
“I’m not sure,” I stammered out. “Tell you what, I’ll tape them up in my room and see what I think over the next couple of days.”
She smiled and ran a hand over my hair. “Sounds great. I just know you haven’t been yourself the last few months, so I thought maybe this would brighten your spirits back up.”
I cleared my throat, hoping the emotion coating it would go away. It didn’t. Suddenly my backpack and the boxes inside it felt even heavier.
“So, how was your day, honey?”
“It was great, actually,” I said, making a split-second decision about what I was gonna say.
I set my backpack on the counter to give my arm—and conscience—a break from the weight of it.
“I, um, won this contest at school. It was this essay thing… and the prize was,” I hesitated for a second and then forced myself to say, “It was a new iPad.”
Mum whirled around in surprise. “What? Really? I can’t believe your siblings didn’t mention that.”
“Oh, it was specific to the Student Council,” I said, waving it off.
It hadn’t occurred to me that all my siblings probably would have heard about it if this had been an actual contest. “And it wasn’t just Parkhurst, it was all the private schools in the area.
” I swallowed again and then forced myself to open the bag and pull out the tablet.
“Oh, that’s so wonderful. Congratulations,” Mum said, coming over to give me a kiss on the head.
I felt like I should keep making conversation, felt like I should stay down here and try to act as normal as possible. But my insides were currently quickly going through my outside. So I stuffed the tablet box back in and said, “Anyway, I should get started on my homework.”
“Maybe break in the new tablet,” Mum suggested with a grin.
“Uh-huh,” I said quickly. “I, uh, I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Don’t forget the paint samples!”
“Right.” I snatched the samples off the counter, lifting them between us with a forced smile I hoped she didn’t notice. And then I practically booked it upstairs. It probably looked suspicious as heck, but oh well.
For a moment, I was worried I was going to have to repeat this entire conversation with Ainsley, who would probably see through my lies even better than Mum could, but when I got upstairs, Ainsley’s music blasted so loud I could hear the lyrics clear as day through her door.
Still, I paused outside her door and pressed an ear to it.
It was hard to hear over the deafening music, but I swore I could hear her busy chatting on the phone as well.
Before she could fling the door open and catch me standing there guiltily, I quickly stepped away and ran to my room, breathing a sigh of relief as I dropped onto my desk chair.
I wasn’t sure when I became somebody who lied to my family, but I had to say, I was not enjoying it.