Picasso's Promise

Episode 42| Sydney's Secret

THE MORNING BEFORE

SYDNEY'S POV

Going to school that next morning, I had one thing on my mind. Before anything else, I had to get my classes changed.

No way was I going to spend another semester in the same homeroom as Genesis, or Picasso. I wasn't mad at him, but there was a growing suspicion that he was hiding something, or worse, lying to me. He was avoiding me at every turn, missing my calls, and dodging my text messages for the last couple days.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Jacobson said, brushing her hair off her shoulder. "It's too late in the semester to make those kinds of changes. You should've come before midterm week."

"I didn't want to drop these classes until now."

"That's a problem I can't fix."

"What can you fix?"

"Schedule changes aren't one of them."

"Why not?"

"Like I said," she sighed in distress, "It's too late."

"You don't care that I'm terrified of going to my classes?"

"Sydney, you never said you were scared of the students here."

"Well I'm not asking you to change my classes for no reason."

Mrs. Jacobson pushed the glasses on her face up her slender nose. "I'll see what I can do about homeroom. Okay?"

"That's a start. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I'll see what I can do."

****

When Picasso came to my apartment later that day, saying that he would commit I crime for me, I didn't think he was that serious about it. Could you blame me? He sounded insane. But the next morning, he picked me up from my place to take me to school. Only one thing was on his mind. He wanted to plan out what our moves would be to get the deed in my hands. 

We didn't come up with any good ideas.

Picasso picked up Danielle on the way, seeing her at a bus stop.

Danielle, of course, had to know about the plan as well.  Picasso almost stopped me.

"The less people who know, the better," he said, "you can't be telling everyone that you're about to kidnap your stepmom like that's not alarming."

"I don't see why you have to resort to that," Danielle stated, "Why can't you talk to your mom? We could try to find her."

"I wouldn't know where to look."

"I bet your aunt knows some things," my friend poked me. "C'mon, let's at least try before you decide to break into your old house."

She had a point.  There was no harm in trying.

We were going to find my mom.

The woman brought back from the dead – and hiding somewhere in the hills of California. 

PICASSO'S POV

First and foremost, I didn't give a fuck about looking for Sydney's mom. She didn't want to be found, she left her daughter with the idea of her being dead, and didn't bother seeing her ever again. To me, she was as good as dead in my book.

But I'd never, not in a million years, say that to my girlfriend.

Sydney was such a sensitive person deep down inside, she couldn't handle the truth. She craved attention and the love she never got from her absent parents.

Her affection for her father was misplaced, especially when she would tell me about him. It was as though he cared more about summers shared together than he did during any other time of the year. He would take her to such lavish places, but then ignore her for most of the term. She brushed it off as him being busy with work, however, I saw it as lazy parenting.

Why did people have children they couldn't take care of?

What was the point in having a child if they had a better relationship with the help than they did with you?

The way she spoke of her au pair, you would think that woman was Sydney's blood relative or something.

"She's from Senegal," Sydney had said once, "and she would always wear such beautiful patterns. She had hair that went to her hips and always found a reason to dance."

Her au pair, from the sounds of it, played the role of a mother that she needed. She was the one that nurtured her when she was longing for the warmth of her mother.

Without knowing anything about West Africa, Sydney would proclaim that she would visit her in Senegal, saying that she missed her desperately after going into high school. That was when he father didn't see a point in getting help. He figured she could take care of herself now.

If Sydney asked me, I would feel more inclined to track down her old au pair instead of her biological mother.

Nevertheless, here we were, ditching school to head off to the one person we knew we could get information about her parents.

Mr. Langston.

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author's note:

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I know the chapter is short - but updates will be frequent. And eventually, chapters will get longer. Please recommend to friends!