Chapter Thirteen
MONTANA
Iventured into the kitchen, expecting an empty room since it was Monday morning. Mom sat at the island with her laptop opened and her fingers tapping the keys. Theclick, click, click,sounded like a soft drumbeat.
I gathered a bowl, spoon, the box of Cheerios, and the milk then sat across from her. “Did some crazy idea pop into your head in the middle of the night?”
One whole week had passed since I started at my new school, and in that time, I had enough drama in my life for my mom to use in ten books.
She barely regarded me as she flicked a strand of her messy hair out of her face. “Since we’ve been here, the story I’d been struggling with is pouring out.”
I filled my bowl with cereal. “You’ve been at it all weekend.”
She even canceled the Saturday night dinner we were supposed to have as part of us spending time together. I’d been looking forward to us wandering around the city, window-shopping, and eating at a cool restaurant. But at the last minute, she’d dumped me. I’d felt as though we were back in New York, where all of her weekends consisted of writing or dating. Normally, I would have huffed and puffed then tagged. But not this time.
She took a sip of her coffee, and then she bent over, lifted her computer bag, and set it on the counter. Disappointment washed over her face as she removed a paint can… my paint can. It was the one I’d had in my schoolbag, the one I used for tagging. I was waiting for her to show me the other can, but she only set the one down.
My heart stopped beating for a long second.
“Are you tagging again?” she asked.
I swallowed the fear ball that was lodged in my throat. “Where did you get that?” My schoolbag was in my room, or so I thought. “Did you go into my room?”
“That’s not an answer.” Her voice matched the anger swimming in her eyes.
“It’s not what you think.” I’d had every intention of tagging something on Friday night. Train had had me so flipping frustrated. And during halftime, I’d wanted to tag his locker, but I didn’t know which one it was. I’d almost settled for the locker room door, but then I thought about what could happen to me. And Train wasn’t worth me getting expelled. I’d also heard voices. So I’d torn out of the school like white lightning. “I carry them in my bag. That’s it.”
Mom stared at me over her coffee mug. “So you didn’t tag anything?”
“I promise. I didn’t. Besides, I’ve been here all weekend. Remember? You dumped me.” So I’d locked myself in my room. Otherwise, I probably would’ve colored the city with my artwork, which was one of the reasons I hadn’t accepted Elvira’s offer to go out with her to the Music Farm. I’d also declined since Train would be there. I wasn’t ready to deal with him—not that I was afraid of him. I was more afraid that I would either kick him in the balls or throw myself at him in a desperate need to lock lips with him.
I shoved a spoonful of cereal in my mouth. After I swallowed, I hopped off the stool and deposited my half-eaten bowl of cereal into the sink. I wasn’t hungry anymore.
My mom caught my arm. “Montana, you better not be lying to me.”
“I’m not. You should write, Mom.”
The lines around her face softened. “Hey, I’m sorry about canceling on you this weekend. I’m trying to meet my deadline. But something tells me you’re bothered by something else as well. It’s that boy, Train. You like him but don’t want to admit it.”
Busted on that count. “I need to get to school.”
She set down her cup and swiveled on the barstool. “Honey, talk to me. I might be absorbed in the story I’m writing, but I’m not dead. I get that you’re upset with me, but you could’ve gone out with your new friends this weekend.”
I hated that she knew me so well, although I wasn’t sure she believed me when I said I hadn’t tagged. “Okay, here’s the deal. I like Train. But he’s an asshat. He gets under my skin and stays there.”
She rubbed my arms. “Which is the reason you want to tag? But didn’t, right?”
I huffed. “I didn’t tag, Mom.”
She mashed her lips. “What does he do that makes you mad?”
“He says things like I’m not his type, yet he gets in my face like he’s going to kiss me then storms off. I’m also afraid that if he does kiss me, that I’ll fall for him like I did Nikko.” Train had barely nibbled on my lips in the weight room. I was talking tongue action.
She frowned. “You shouldn’t be afraid of feeling for someone. Yes, the breakup with Nikko hurt. All first loves do. It’s your senior year, honey. Train is a good-looking boy. Have a little fun. Maybe go to the ball with him.”
“It takes two, Mom.”
She placed her hands in her lap. “Give it time. He’ll come around.”
