I pull the visor mirror down and look at myself. My face and chest are flushed. “I don’t know, but this ice cream is hitting the spot.”
Kai narrows his eyes at me, looking between me and the ice cream. “You really do like ice cream on a cold day.”
“Yup,” I say as I finish the last of my ice cream cone. “Does this bug you?” This has been on my mind so much, and I end up blurting out the question as if he knows what I’m thinking.
“Doeswhatbug me?”
“Me always being grounded. Us not being able to see or talk to each other.”
“We still see each other at school.”
“For ten minutes. It’s only ahiin the morning and abyewhen you leave for work. That’s all—until the next day rolls around, obviously. Then Friday comes around and we don’t see or speak to each other until Monday.” I bite my lip, and my brows furrow with a worried expression as I glance outside the window and watch snowflakes drop onto the window and melt away.
“Hey,” he says and places his hand on my thigh. “What are you worrying about?”
Is he seeing someone else? Is that why it doesn’t sound like it bothers him? Am I just his high school girlfriend, and he has another one on the side?
“I feel like you’re going to get sick of me since I have all these rules I have to follow and you can do whatever you want.”
“Blakely.” He runs his hand down my face and wipes a tear.
My tears came out of nowhere; I’m not usually this emotional in front of people.
“You have nothing to worry about. I told you it’s usforever and ever.”
“You promise?” I ask, sniffling.
“Forever,” he repeats.
“And ever,” I say.
Thanksgiving Week 2009
“Don’t fall asleep in class,” my mom says.
It took everything in me to drag myself out of bed this morning. My mom even thought I had snuck out since I was so tired. I’m not sure how she thinks I can get away with it now. She makes us keep both of our bedroom doors open, and she put an alarm on the back door.
She has no idea, but I know how to turn it off. I haven’t, though. I’ve been too scared to sneak out again.
I’m thankful this week is the start of our Thanksgiving break, but my heart sinks knowing that I won’t be able to see or talk to Kai.
“Hey, B!” Paige says as she slides into her desk empty-handed.
This week is pretty much a blow-off week in most of our classes. There is barely any teaching done before breaks. I think teachers make us watch movies when they want a break, too. I’m not complaining.
I slump back into my chair and yawn. “Our break can’t come soon enough.”
“Yes, but I’m going to be so bored.”
“Me too.”
Paige’s mom hasn’t given her phone back. She’s still grounded, too.
Just as expected, the teacher wheels the TV in on a cart. “Class, we’ll be watchingRatatouille. I know it’s not much of an educational movie, but I think we all deserve a break.”
“Thank God. I can sleep,” I say.
“Hey, I like this movie,” Paige says.
