Cole
Friday popped up fast. As soon as I got home from school I headed up to my room and threw in enough clothes for the weekend, which consisted of one pair of jeans and two different shirts. I was taking her to the beach, but that didn’t change the fact that it was still winter.
“Cole?” I heard my mother shout, and I rolled my eyes, choosing to ignore her. I zipped up my duffel and threw it over my shoulder, grabbing the extra bike helmet I had out of my closet. Only when I was good and ready did I descend the stairs, hoping deeply that my mother wouldn’t notice me leaving.
I didn’t hope hard enough.
“You’re leaving? Where are you going?”
“Out,” I answered. “I’ll be back Sunday.”
“Sunday!” she gasped, hand flying to her mouth. “Where on earth are you going?”
“To the beach.”
“It’s only an hour away, son. You could come back tomorrow—wait, why are you going to the beach?”
“I’m taking Grace.”
Her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. “You’re still associating yourself with that girl?”
I groaned. “Give it a rest, Mom. You’re high-school-girl is showing again.”
She followed me to the door, hands peevishly placed on her hips. “I’m still your mother and you still live in my house, so you’ll abide by my rules. You aren’t going anywhere. Unpack and do your homework.”
I actually laughed at her words. “That’s funny.”
“Cole Jackson Winters!”
I glared at her. “I won’t fucking unpack, Mom. And yes, I’m associating myself with Grace, who you so fondly refer to as ‘that girl.’ I’m taking her to the beach for the weekend and I’m going to make sure she has the time of her life, and I honestly couldn’t give a damn as to what you have to say about it.”
“Cole—”
“Bye, Mom,” I said dully, opening the door and walking out. Did I care about leaving her in such bad graces? Not particularly. As far as moms went, I always thought she could do better. Be more accepting of my life, try not to be so much like Margaret.
I swung my leg over my bike, duffel still on my shoulder, spare helmet resting in my lap, acutely aware of my mother watching my every move. And without another word in her direction, I sped off down the road toward Grace’s.
She was waiting on the porch with her own little bag when I arrived.
“Hey,” I greeted as I walked up the porch, pressing a brief kiss to her lips.
“Hi,” she replied. She was wearing jeans and one of her famous sweaters, hair back in its braid down her back. I would be the first to admit she didn’t look good. There were bags under her eyes, her skin was whiter than paper, and she had lost some weight. But somehow she still managed to look absolutely radiant.
The door behind her opened and her father appeared, arms folded over his thick expanse of chest. I could tell there were a few choice things he wanted to say to me, so I turned to Grace. “Why don’t you go down to the bike? I’ll be right there.”
“Okay.” She walked away, and when she wasn’t within hearing distance I returned my attention to her father.
“If this is about not hurting her, I swear—”
YOU ARE READING
Ten Things
Teen Fiction(TH#5)"And maybe in the end, in spite of all we said, all we did, all we met, we are only thoughts that evaporate into the effervescent whirlwind of time." Cole Winters is a perfect example of high school done right; star quarterback, good-looking...
