2 - Family (3/3)

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Or that's what I thought before catapulting the box of orange juice out of the fridge when I tried to make room for mom's breakfast. I cursed when the liquid disaster left me and the entire floor in an orange mess. Cleaning up the kitchen floor and taking my second shower that morning ate up the entire buffer of time I'd gotten for getting up early. barely managed to grab my sandwich on the way to the door. I'd just left one block behind me when I noticed that I'd forgotten something. Taking out my old flip phone I texted mom that I'd take the envelope to the bank ASAP after school but she replied almost immediately.

Don't worry, honey. I'll take care of it.

Guess it's my turn making dinner?, I typed and already knew the answer.

You betcha!

Pouring rain accompanied me on my way to school, the headlights of cars stuck in traffic hurt my eyes, the sky was grey on this summer day. It was August 30th. I was seventeen.

It was the day that taught me how fragile life could be, that each moment was precious, and that stability was an illusion. But I didn't know that yet when I crossed the main street, passed by Matt's book shop, and eventually reached our school grounds. Everything was as always, nothing that would've given away that this Monday would turn into the worst day of my life.

Actually - if I'm being honest - the day at school began pretty good.

The English test Mrs. Lapels forced us to make before the big exam next month was easier than expected, the cafeteria served burgers for lunch, and my art teacher was praising my comic adaptation of Top Gun — his choice, not mine. He even suggested I should join the school paper as a cartoonist - something I did consider because I knew it would make mom happy if I joined a school club.

The note I found in my locker after class was the first thing that made me frown. I unfolded the small square paper with stiff fingers after making sure nobody was watching me.

$6,000

- XX, H

Clenching my jaws, I tore the note into pieces and threw it away on my way out.

How the heck could she spend so much money on something like this? Didn't her parents keep an eye on her allowance?

A mere minute after the shreds landed in the wastebasket, my phone began vibrating in my pocket.

Below the message that I'd missed five calls from an unknown number that came in while I was in class, there was a text from Holland. I ground my teeth. How did she get my number?

Holland: Well?

Me: No.

Holland: C'mon!

I thrust the cell phone back into my jeans pocket.

Outside the building, I passed by the sports ground in a hurry; I just wanted to go home. Still, my feet halted when I saw that the soccer team's practice session had just begun. Dozens of players in black practice jerseys were mingling on the field, either doing some warm-up or chatting casually with one another. On their own, my eyes searched for Clay, who stood a few feet away from the other players and talked to his coach. The upper half of his face was hidden under coach Simpson's deep blue umbrella, so I could only see the movement of his full lips. His arms were crossed in front of his broad chest, his lips moved fast and I couldn't help but notice that his overall posture seemed tense. I drew in my brows, wondering if something was wrong.

Clay nodded one last time before heading out into the rain. His auburn hair was soaked within seconds and his jersey...

Is he hot?

My cheeks caught fire when the pearl white fabric clung tightly to his perfectly shaped muscles.

Damn it, Horny!

As if my stare called had called him, Clay turned his head in my direction and his eyes met mine. I expected him to ignore me, to just turn his gaze back to his boys; but just like last time, a shy smile appeared on his handsome face. It caught me off guard, but not as much as when he lifted his hand to wave at me.

Instead of returning the gesture, though, I was fast to look away before the other players noticed me. I thought of Holland's plan and shook my head. Nope. I wouldn't do it.

My phone began humming in my jeans pocket again. Longer this time.

I frowned.

Why couldn't she just let me be?!

Without paying attention to the caller ID, I lifted the phone to my ear and barked: "What do you not understand about No?!"

Silence.

"Is this Kenji Fox?" asked a female voice I'd never heard before.

"Y...yes."

She sighed. "Kenji, my name's Lisa. I'm a colleague of your mom."

The reserved sound of her voice was the only hint I needed to hold on tightly to the cellphone. "What happened?"

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