“Eight?” I repeat, glaring at her now. We probably only got here a few hours ago. “Fuckingeight?”
“Do you want my mom to kill you?” she asks, spinning around to give me a stern look. Her hands are on her hips, her brow arched high. “Do you wantmeto kill you? Because the longer I have to look at you, the more I want to. So let’s go.” Groaning, I slip on my shirt from last night and haul my ass out of bed. I could do with a few more hours of sleep, and I dread going home now. Mom hates it when I don’t come home without telling her first, so she’ll be pissed about that for starters, plus the fact that I snuck out last night too… She definitely isn’t going to be happy. And if Eden told her what she saw last night, then I may not even have a home to return to.
I pull on my jeans and before I’ve even had the chance to finish stepping into my shoes, Tiffani is latching onto my arm and tugging me desperately toward the door. I barely manage to grab Eden’s clothes in time, but I do, and I allow Tiffani to drag me downstairs without resisting her rough hold. Her house is silent, so I figure her mom must still be asleep, which explains why she wants me out of here so fast.
The morning sunlight burns my eyes as we step outside, and by the time I am slumped in Tiffani’s passenger seat, I am already falling back to sleep. It’s nice though, because it means that she doesn’t even attempt to talk to me. I’ve had enough of her for one weekend, so now I could happily go a couple days without her, though I know that’s unlikely to ever happen. I seize the opportunity I have to take a ten-minute snooze before I’m forced to face up to Mom.
“Alright, get out,” Tiffani says a short while later, and when I peel my eyes open, I realize we are parked outside my house.Here we go, I think. It’s time to explain myself to Mom. I sit up and pull down the sun visor to check my reflection in the mirror. My eyes look fine, though they’re dry. I blink a couple times and then close the visor again, opening the car door. I swing one leg out and pause. “I’m sorry, you know,” I say, glancing back over at Tiffani. I don’t really knowwhatI’m even apologizing for, probably for getting high all night, but I do know that I don’t want Tiffani to be mad at me. I’ve grown too comfortable having her around, and even though I know she would never break up with me, I still hate the thought of her giving me the cold shoulder. It’s like she knows this and does it on purpose just to punish me for stepping out of line.
“Go, Tyler,” she mutters, staring ahead at the road, her hands gripping the steering wheel. How high was I last night? What stupid shit came out of my mouth?
Whatever it is that I’ve done to irritate her this time, I’m too hungover to stay and figure it out right now. I just want to climb into bed, pull my sheets up over my head, and sleep for the next twelve hours. That’s why I don’t say anything more as I step out of the car. Tiffani doesn’t wait around. As soon as I’ve shut the door, her foot is on the gas and she’s off, flying down the street.
With Eden’s clothes still in my hands, I stare at my house for a moment. And then I sigh. I’m used to Mom’s yelling, and even though I hate letting her down, I’ve learned to tune it out. It will last for five minutes, max, and then she’ll give up. At least that’s how it usually goes.
I walk up to the front door, my steps slow and almost reluctant, and I try the handle. It’s unlocked. I squeeze my eyes shut, take a deep breath, then push the door open. There is silence at first as I creep intothe hall, clicking the door closed behind me again as quietly as I possibly can, and I look at the stairs, on a clean getaway to my room, but then I hear it, the worst sound in the world: “Tyler?”
I freeze on the spot and surrender to my fate. I wait in the hall, and a few seconds later, Mom walks in from the kitchen.
“Finally,” she breathes, pressing her hand over her heart as though she’s been worried sick. I don’t know why. It’s not like I’ve never done this before. Her expression quickly hardens, and she throws her hands up in frustration. “Where the hell have you been, Tyler?”
I glance down at the floor and shrug. “Out,” I answer. Usually, Mom can see straight through me anyway, so there’s not much point wasting my breath.
“Where?” she presses.
“What does it matter? I’m home now.”
Her blue eyes are full of both angerandconcern, which is what I hate the most. I want her to think I’m okay, even though she knows I’m far from it. I wish I could be okay just for her just so she doesn’t have to go through this. “Have you been out drinking all night?”
“No,” I say, running a hand back through my hair. It’s a mess. “I slept at Tiffani’s place.”
“And before that?”
“Mom, I’m tired,” I mumble, hoping she’ll feel sorry for me, but it’s a weak attempt.
“Tyler.” She goes quiet as she runs her eyes over me, and the expression in them changes. Not anger, not concern, just that same old look of disappointment that she gives me too often. “You’ve been smoking, haven’t you?”
“What? No,” I lie, instinctively stepping back from her.
“You think I can’t smell it?”
I glance down at myself. I’m wearing last night’s clothes. I haven’t showered.Of courseI stink of weed. I’m a fucking idiot. “Alright, I was at a party. Some guys there were smoking. Not me,” I blurt out quickly, and because I don’t know what else to say, I brush past her and attempt to make my escape up the stairs.
“You’re lying to me,” I hear her state, her voice quivering. “God, Tyler. Why? I can’t deal with this!”
I stop and turn back. She has her hands pressed to her face now, and I want to hug her, to tell her that I’m sorry, that Ineedto do all of these things to cope, that I love her and wish it was all different. But then Dave decides to get involved. He steps into the hall as though he’s been listening the entire time and says, “Did he finally show up?” in the most patronizing of tones.
I narrow my eyes at him. I’ve never liked Dave since the moment Mom first introduced him to us years ago, and it’s not just because I don’t like father figures. It’s because Dave’s an asshole who has never once taken the time to get to know me better. He knows my history, but yet he still comes along with all his condescending remarks and eye rolls that just make me want to hit him square in the face. “Yep, here I am,” I reply, flashing him a grin.
“And what exactly is it that makes you think it’s okay to stay out all night?” he questions, moving closer to Mom. He puts his hand on her shoulder and squeezes her for support. “You’re grounded. You weren’t even supposed to leave the house last night.”
I make a face at him. It makes me want to laugh whenever he attempts to act strict with me. He may be my stepdad, but I still don’t believe that gives him the right to act like my parent. “Dave, please do me a favor. Give up.” I roll my eyes, and I spin around and storm up the stairs.
“Tyler!” Mom calls after me. “Get back here.”
I ignore her, instead muttering under my breath about how much of an asshole Dave is. I have my eye on my bedroom door when I realize I’m still holding Eden’s clothes. I also realize that, unbelievably, Mom didn’t just yell at me for the coke. Which means she doesn’t know. Which means Eden didn’t tell her. At least not yet.
I come to a halt outside of Eden’s room for a second, and then I push the door open without even knocking, and I walk straight in. Not only do I need to give her her stuff back, I also need to talk to her.
