Mom will no doubt lightly knock on my door soon, peeking her head in with a sweet smile and asking if I want breakfast.
She’s always so nice to me… even when I don’t deserve it.
Why do I find that annoying sometimes?
Ugh!
I pull the covers up to my chin, scowling at the ceiling as I think about her wounded look on the plane.
Dammit!
I need to apologize to her, but then Dad took my phone, and…argh!
After a heavy sigh, I bite my wobbling lip and refuse to cry. Curry doesn’t deserve my tears. He deserves my anger and disgust.
I can’t believe I lost my phone and hurt Mom’s feelings—all because of him!
What a fucking douche nugget!
With a loud huff, I pull my arms out from under the covers and slap them onto my thighs before crossing them tightly and squeezing my biceps.
Mom will have forgiven me already. That’s her way. She has endless, boundless love for us kids, and she really does deserve an apology from me. I just need to muster up the courage to go and give her one.
No, not the courage… the humility.
My pride has taken a major hit in the last twenty-four hours, and I’m feeling bruised and wounded myself.
To have to add a shame-faced apology on top of that?
Ah… no thank you.
I’d prefer just to stay up in this empty room sulking.
Besides, I’m tired.
Harley snored most of the night, which is probably why Portia got up and bailed. I think she must have spent the night with her parents, because I never heard her come back in.
Glancing at their rumpled beds, I squeeze my arms a little tighter. Am I the only one not downstairs?
Everyone’s probably having fun without me.
Do I seriously want to miss out on all the cool stuff Aunt Libby has no doubt planned and the fun treats later today for Valentine’s and then our Christmas morning tomorrow?
“Shit,” I mutter, but still don’t throw back the covers.
How am I supposed to enjoy any of this weekend when my parents took my phone and the boy I like is a complete jackass?
My bedroom door pops open and I flinch, steeling myself against whoever’s coming in to coax me out of bed.
“Oh, hi, Zoey.” Jane gives me a shy smile before Aunt Blake appears behind her.
“Hey, Zo.” She waves at me. “Hey, have you seen Harley?”
I shake my head. “She got up hours ago.”
“Yeah.” Aunt Blake wrinkles her nose. “She’s taken off, and we’re trying to find her.”
“What do you mean?” I flick my covers back and swing my legs over the side of the bed.
