Motorcycle Girl

Chapter 7: Sprained

Chapter 7: Sprained

I look down at my phone, annoyance radiating through my body as it rings with my sisters face on the screen.

Not only is she calling, but she's FaceTiming.

I groan to myself and reach over, swiping the bar to answer. I get out of bed, tripping on one of my shoes, and turn on the light. My face in the corner appears as I look down at my sister.

"Nathan, Mason told me you went on a motorcycle!" She screeches.

And she's not alone. Mom is behind her, and my Dad, and I can hear movement in the kitchen. I can tell she's in the kitchen by the color of the wall behind her.

That means Julian is in there.

I walk back to my bed and flop down.

"And?" I press.

"That's reckless!" Mom scolds. "How can you be so careless, Nathan! You could've been injured!"

Peyton sets the phone up so I can see everyone, and my suspicions where correct. Julian is there, shirtless, wearing basketball shorts.

"Who was driving?" Dad questions.

I sigh.

"it was-"

I cut off when I realize I don't know her name. I forgot it.

Again.

"Who?" Mom asks. "Who, Nathan? Answer!"

"I forgot." I say seriously.

"You forgot?" Julian snickers in the background.

"Hold on." I mutter. I set my phone up on my lamp so they can see me, and then I walk out of my room. "Mason!" I roar.

Brenda comes out of the bedroom, her hair a mess.

"What do you want?" She asks.

She's wrapped in a sheet. I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

"I need to know French Fry's name." I say.

"Odeletta." She snaps.

She goes back into the bedroom and slams the door.

Oh, right.

I walk into the bedroom and shut the door, grabbing my phone again.

"Her name is Odeletta." I say.

"Her?" Mom repeats. Her entire face lights up like I just informed her that her favorite celebrity is at the door. "Odeletta?" She asks. "What is she, Russian?"

"French." I correct.

"She's the girl that slapped you." Peyton frowns.

"She slapped you?" Dad asks. "Why?"

"I may or may not have called her a brat...told her she isn't a lady, and then told her that she probably doesn't even speak to her mother..." I cringe.

They all start yelling at me, even my seventeen year old brother.

I sit there, cringing.

After five minutes of their constant bitching, they fall silent.

"Nathan Benjamin Reed, how dare you speak to a women like that! You are a disgrace to this family!" Mom screams at me.

"Mom!" I exclaim.

"You used to be so kind!" She snarls. "You-"

"I apologized." I say. "Are you going to disown me?" My eyes widen and I start to get scared. "Mom?" I ask when she doesn't answer.