Bending the Rules (The Rules, #1)

39

Brenna

"Is Shea picking you up for school today?" Mom asks.

Zipping my winter coat, I nod. He should be here any second. Shea's picking me up because we want to stand united. People will stare at us when we enter. They'll whisper. Our rivalry is known around the Okanagan. Especially at school. With rumours already circulating thanks to the hockey community, we need to support each other. Teenagers are ruthless. 

I sling my backpack over my shoulder. Then I take a deep breath. Although things are running smoothly and I don't give a shit about anyone's perception of me, something feels off. It has ever since New Year's Eve. And not because of the drunken comments I made.

Apologizing to Shea for those was embarrassing. Good thing he laughed them off.

I'm not sure what's going on. Something feels off. I feel like I need to keep looking over my shoulder. Plus, my appetite in minimal. Things just don't feel right. 

For now, I shove that feeling down. Letting my emotions get in the way will ruin this afternoon's date.

Which I need to tell Mom about.

"We, uh, also switched our date to tonight," I say. Mom and I promised each other transparency. Our relationship's foundation is built with trust. "We're still going to Rose Valley Reservoir to skate. Also, we're skipping French. Lapointe emailed students saying today's class is for working on our projects. Since Shea and I are done..." I end my sentence with a shrug.

Mom presses her lips together. "Okay."

Sadness pinches at my heart. Mom still doesn't like Shea. Things shifted between them after New Year's. Whenever Shea's over, things aren't as tense. However, Mom still doesn't trust him.

It's not that I need her approval. Feeling bad for Shea? That's where I'm struggling. Although he's become a better person—and is continuing to redefine himself—his past behaviour has put a mark on his reputation. Dismissing someone's work ethic isn't right. Mom should give him a change. Take my word for his effort. Plus, I don't want Shea thinking he's not improving. Although confidence radiates from him, I've seen his vulnerability. He cares too much about what others think, which sometimes drives him to make decisions that aren't rational.

All that matters is he's trying. He should get credit.

"Mom," I sigh. "Don't hate him. He's a good person."

Mom sighs, setting her coffee down. "You're right. Give me time, sweetie. I haven't experienced the full change."

Mom has a point. She hasn't been around him as much as I have. I flash her a smile. "As long as you're trying. I appreciate it, Mom."

She smiles down at her coffee. Although Mom looks content, the atmosphere between us feels tight. I brush that feeling away. My anxiety is getting the best of me. Wherever this feeling is coming from, I need to figure it out.