“I recoiled from him, unable to speak, but I gave a small nod. He leaned in close. “I don’t accept gifts from fairies. You’re rubbish, just like this is.” He barged my shoulder as he pushed past me and walked to the trash can in the corner of the room. He made sure I was looking at him before he dropped the heart into the trash. Then he walked out of the room, and he didn’t return until after the first period. After that the bullying began. The taunts, the name calling, and the shoving. I was afraid to be alone with him, though being in company didn’t totally stop him. I dropped out of the swim team, which wasn’t that bad as I had more time for knitting . . .” I trail off.
“What a grade-A asshole.” Clara declares.
“Yeah,” I agree but I can’t leave it there. “But he’s changed.”
“Has he?” She challenges me and I know it’s because she cares.
“I believe so.” I really do. He hasn’t given me any indication that he’s like the old Reece, even if his attempts at an apology have been clumsy.
“Do you still want to go tonight? To the prom.” Clara cuts through my thoughts.
“Yes, I do.” I don’t even hesitate in answering, and a frown of concern crosses her face.
“Will you be okay?”
“I think so. I’ve talked to him several times now, and I’ve stood up to him. He no longer has any power over me. I can meet him with perfect indifference.”
“Holden,” Clara snorts. “I think you’re more in danger of having a crush on him than ever before.”
I give her the derisory huff she deserves for such a statement because she’s wrong. Of course she is.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Reece
“How are you, honey?” my mom asks when I walk into the kitchen, putting the year book down on the kitchen table. Holden’s words have left me deflated and I’m not sure I can face going to the prom tonight, so I don’t want to answer with the truth. Instead, I change the subject.
“Something smells good.”
She gives me a curious stare, but I ignore it and start making myself a coffee. I try not to dwell on the fact that I haven’t had much time to catch up with her yet. But as soon as the reunion is over I’m looking forward to changing that. We’ll spend a few days doing mom and son things, which we haven’t done in a very long time. I’ve also never told her about how I was for those last few months before I left. As much as I hate to, I feel I need to tell her. I want her to know that part of me as well.
“Marina gave me a new cookie recipe so I wanted to try it out,” she says, cutting through my thoughts. I turn to look at her and raise an eyebrow.
“You’re taking recipes from someone else?” My mom is an excellent cook and I remember her cookies were pretty special.
“We’re swapping recipes, it’s what we do,” she says with a laugh. “The same with knitting patterns. That’s how we increase our own knowledge, by sharing.” That sounds very communal, and I wonder what it would be like to have a network like that.
“I’m glad,” I say with a grin. “Because her cookies aresooogood.”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” my mom says, and I look for a hint of irony or envy but I see none, nor does she respond to my gentle teasing. All I can see is a woman with genuine admiration for another and I’m so proud of her. I just wish I could reach even half her standards.
A beeping erupts from the oven, and she crosses the room to switch it off and pull out a tray of cookies, which look just perfect. I’ve eaten a few of Marina’s cookies over the last few months but I don’t recognize these.
“They smell incredible,” I say. “What are they?”
“Pecan and honey,” she replies and a warm glow spreads throughout me.
“You remembered!” Pecan’s my favorite but not so easy to find in the UK.
“Of course I did.” She smiles, looking pleased that I recognized her efforts. She transfers the cookies to a cooling rack and Isneak a hand out to steal one. She bats my hand away with the spatula, but I pay no heed and steal one anyway.
“Reece!” she admonishes, but I can tell she doesn’t mind. She did bake them for me after all.
“Oh my,” I exclaim, keeping my mouth open as the cookie is very hot and I’m trying not to get burned. “These really are delicious.”
She rolls her eyes at me, like I deserve the pain I’m in, but she looks pleased at my outburst anyway.
“You have Marina to thank for that,” she says as if it’s no big thing.
