“Oh right.” His mom shrugged, though, which told him she didn’t quite get it. “I was surprised when Bikram told me you were here.”
“He shouldn’t have told you.”
She ignored that. “Why are you here?”
His mom was paranoid and suspicious about the internet, convinced it was a tool used by capitalism to spy on her and sell her stuff she didn’t need. Which, given the ads that were frequently served to Jas, he couldn’t entirely defend against.
Tara grudgingly embraced only the parts of technology and the internet that could help her students. He didn’t want to freak her out by explaining how Katrina had gone viral. “Katrina needed to get away. There were some problems for her at home.”
“Oh no. Are they resolved now?”
Katrina had told him this morning that she and her roommates were plotting a counter campaign. He’d been too busy planning his hay/water/snowball fight to ask her how her talk with the other women had gone. “Soon, perhaps.”
“Good! How are your friends in L.A.? Are you keeping in touch with them while you’re here?”
“I’ve only been here for a couple of days, Mom.”
“Yes, I know. But you do have a problem, I’ve noticed, staying in touch with people. You should text them, tell them what’s going on with your life.”
Jas was mildly offended. He knew how to keep in touch with his friends.
Do you? You mostly only kept in touch with Lorne because she provides you with a service.
He rolled his shoulders, disliking how he could kind ofsee the truth in his mother’s gentle criticism. “I’ll text them more,” he allowed.
“How are you enjoying being home?” Tara asked.
Like he was home. Pleasure. Hurt. The joy of being in his family’s old home, his home. The pain of reopening old wounds with his grandfather.
She nodded when he was silent. “You don’t have to answer. Katrina’s dog seems to like you.” She came closer and brushed a speck of dirt off his shoulder. “That’s unusual for you.”
That statement he didn’t take offense to, because it was a fact. They hadn’t been able to keep any indoor dogs when he was young because of how little they cared for Jas.
It had hurt his feelings when he was a child. Animals had a sixth sense about people, right? What did it mean when they decided you weren’t worthy? “Doodle tolerates me.” Which was the best he could expect from any four-legged creature.
“That’s a sign.”
“What’s the sign with other creatures who don’t tolerate me?” he asked dryly. He’d never been able to suspend skepticism for his mother’s talk of signs and fate, not even when he was a child.
“That they weren’t yours, of course.”
What did that even mean? He changed the subject. “What are you really doing here?”
Her lower lip stuck out in a pretty pout. “I told you, everyone’s here, and I felt left out.”
“You told Grandpa that I was home, didn’t you? That’swhy he came back early? That’s why you haven’t called me since I got here, because you knew I’d know?”
She drew herself up, the picture of outraged sensibilities. “Of course not.”
Jas studied her. Her lip twitched at the corner, which gave her away. His mom had a decent poker face, but she’d never been able to control that lip twitch when she was lying. “I don’t believe you.”
“Well, you can believe me or not.”
He sighed. “Don’t bullshit me, Mom.”
Her lips firmed, and she turned away from him, taking a couple of steps away to the counter. “I spoke with Bikram yesterday night.”
“Ah.” His brother had snitched about the fight.
