CHAPTER TWENTY
I gently close my bedroom door so as not to wake anyone still asleep on the floor, but when laughter from the living room makes it up the stairs, I drop the extra effort. I doubt Blake decided today was the day to become a social fourth roommate. It’s not often he’s caught out of his hideaway on the third floor and he’s never spent enough time with us to laugh about something.
That leaves one other option. Drew and Grant.
Sure enough when I stop in the living room Grant and Drew both sit on the couch. Wireless controllers in hand, both of them lean toward the television, their fingers quickly moving over the buttons. A bright green tank explodes on the television and both guys shout, “Yes!” while high fiving one another.
They are both absolute morons.
The surprising piece isn’t how I’m surrounded by boys who enjoy blowing crap up, but the fact seeing Grant and Drew together no longer makes me want to kick ether of them in the balls. Sure, a small part of me wants to run for the TV and yell, “Traitor!” at Drew, but a part of me is happy he has a new friend.
“I’m out, boys. Have a good afternoon.” The forecast calls for rain — as it does most days in San Francisco — so I grab my parka off the back of the kitchen chair before heading to the front door.
“Hold on.” Grant jumps up from the couch, the game paused on the screen. “Where are you headed? Do you need help?”
Urgh. He has to be helpful doesn’t he?
“She’s going to visit her mom,” Drew says before I answer. My hands ball into fists. I’m sure he thinks he’s providing me an easy out, but I don’t want his help.
“Oh, where does she live?”
“The Eastside.” Another one of Drew’shelpfullies where he avoids the truth entirely. Once again making me feel entirely railroaded like he knows what’s best for me more than I do.
“Do you need a ride?” Grant pulls his cell phone from his back pocket.
That’s all I can handle. Less than two minutes ago we were sharing a happy moment where I didn’t want to murder either of them, but now the room turns red. My hand falls into a fist again, and I bang it on the table. The contact with the wood stings and I shake out my hand.
“Prison! He means I’m going to see my mom at Chowchilla State Prison. Where she’s serving out her time on a drug charge.”
Drew stands beside me. “Clare, calm down.”
“Why?” I ask taking a step away from him. “I’m trying to tell the truth since we’re friends now, right?
My hands sweep out to encompass the room as Grant sits back on the couch with a stunned expression.Yeah, you weren’t ready for that were you, buddy?
“Oh, you didn’t know that? After the man you think so perfect left my mom high and dry, she turned to alcohol to numb the pain. Eventually liquor wasn’t enough, and she started in with drugs. Next she’s arrested. With no money for a lawyer her public defender did the best he could. I spent the next four years in foster care since dear old dad didn’t think I’d fit into his family life at the time.”
The room is silent as the seconds tick away. I breathe heavily, my chest rising and falling in rapid pants. I blow out a stream of air from between my lips.
“There you have it.” If nothing else I’ve said to Grant over the past few weeks has managed to make him realize how wrong this situation is, knowing my mother wears an orange jumpsuit every day should be enough to have him running for the hills.
“Have you been to jail?” Grant asks standing from the couch a second time.
I openly scoff at his insinuation. “No.”
“Are you planning on going?”
Like anyone plans on going to jail. I roll my eyes. “No!”
Grant shakes his head and takes a few steps closer. “Then it doesn’t much affect me.”
“It would if you dated me. I’m aJerrySpringerepisode.”
“Clare, you aren’t your parents.”
Grant’s words do nothing to make me feel better. “I would never be accepted by your family or friends.”
“What the hell do you mean? Aspen practically considers you a sister. Those people are my friends and family, and they’re already yours too.”
