“Guess I’ll see you around.”
He doesn’t respond, still staring at the fridge.
I leave and walk back to Brock’s house. As I approach it, I see him pulling out of the driveway. I duck behind a shrub in the neighbor’s yard and wait until he’s gone before continuing to the house.
When I go inside, I run right into Maria. She’s holding a basket of laundry.
“Sorry,” I say. “I wasn’t looking.”
“No worries,” she says, smiling. “We’ll leave at two. Will that work?”
“Yeah. I’ll be in my room.” I walk off.
“Thank you for what you did,” I hear her say.
I turn and walk back to her. “Sorry he blamed you. I can’t believe he accused you like that.”
She shrugs. “The help always gets blamed.”
“Thanks for covering for me about the phone.”
She smiles. “I saw you with that boy. I figured you didn’t want your uncle to know.”
“He’s just a neighbor. There’s nothing going on with us. I have a boyfriend.”
“A boyfriend?” She winks at me. “You’ll have to tell me all about him on our outing this afternoon. See you then.”
She goes up the stairs with the laundry while I go into my room.
I get out my phone and open my photos to one of Axl. He’s hot, but in a different way than Jackson. I never thought I’d be attracted to a guy like Jackson, and yet I can’t stop thinking about him. I even caught myself imagining what it’d be like to kiss him. I felt guilty for even letting my mind go there. I told myself it’d never happen again, but then it did when I saw him today at the door, and then later when he was only wearing a towel.
Why is this happening? Is it because I miss Axl? Or am I having feelings for Jackson? Feelings I shouldn’t be having?
Just before two, Maria knocks on my door.
“Ready to go?”
“Yeah.” I open the door and find her standing there with her purse over her shoulder and keys in her hand. “Do I need anything?”
“No. I’ll pay for everything with Brock’s card. Oh.” She pulls a card from her purse. “This is yours.”
I take the card. “Is this my debit card?”
“Yes. The money is in your account.”
We walk through the living room and go down the hall that leads to the garage.
“Does Brock track what I use it for?” I ask, shoving the card in my pocket.
“He doesn’t with the boys, unless they use up their allowance before the end of the month. They’ve learned to keep some in there, so he doesn’t check.”
“I bet he’ll check mine. The rules seem to be different for me.”
We go out to the garage, and Maria walks over to a rusty white van. When I get in, I see the back is filled with cleaning supplies and vacuums.
“Give it time,” Maria says as we drive away from the house. “Brock has a hard enough time being a father to the boys. Now he has a girl and he’s not sure what to do. Raising girls is different than raising boys.”
“But I’m not his kid. And I’m already raised. I’m practically an adult.”
