As I Am

Chapter Sixteen

            Slowly, Mom rises to her feet. “I’m calling your father.” Despite being very plain with her words, her expression looks cold. She’s mad.

            “Please, don’t say anything to him right now,” I beg. I jump into standing and grab her arm, bringing her a step back towards me. “I don’t want her to know I’m upset and she will if you call Dad right now.”

            Mom sighs, slowly turning to me with her arms folded across her chest. Her right hand is resting against her mouth. It’s her thinking pose; one I only usually see when she’s creating a complicated plot in one of her books.

            “Fine, okay, Bama.” She frowns and wraps me in her arms without warning. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers into my hair. Her voice is so quiet that I don’t think the words are meant for me to hear. “I’m so, so sorry you have to go through this.”

            In my lighthouse room I put on the sweater Evan let me borrow that I still haven’t returned. It’s perfectly dry and smells like a mix between rain and his house. I don’t exactly want to give it back just yet, and even though I’m still upset with him, I don’t want to waste the time I have it not wearing it.

            I lie on my back on the balcony, blaring the tape deck yet again. Dad had found me a cord and helped me rig the stereo to allow my iPod to play on it, so as I lay sprawled out with my eyes glued on the sky, a remix of Lana Del Rey’s Video Games is playing through the speakers. The bass pounds on my back and for such an old radio, one that probably would be labeled as garbage, the crackling sounds make everything sound a little better.

            “Bama!”

            Mom’s voice breaks through the melody and I turn down the radio and sit up. “Yeah?” I call back.

            “Phone!”

            I slowly rise onto my feet, grab my iPod and walk through the screen door into my room. I take the steps down the spiral staircase slowly, not sure if I want to answer the phone or not. I should have asked Mom who it is, but now it’s too late. The person on the other end will hear me, and if I say to tell them I’m busy, they will know I’m lying.

            “Please don’t be Evan, please don’t be Evan,” I whisper as I walk into the kitchen. I take the phone that’s sitting sideways on the top of the receiver and press it to my ear. I cringe. “Hello?”

            “Bam, its Hadley.”

            I breathe a silent thank God and lean my back against the wall of the kitchen. I don’t know where Mom is so I stare out at the window, watching the sky turn a shade of orange and yellow.

            “Hey, Hadley.”

            I guess Dad’s not home yet, which I’m thankful for. I told my mother that I don’t want to be downstairs when she confronts him, and I don’t want him to talk about it with me. Honestly, I don’t know what I do want other than for none of this to have ever happened.