I went straight home that day. Dad hadn’t returned from work yet, but Mom was on the sofa, reading a book with the TV on mute.
“Hey, Mom,” I said on the way to the stairs. Then I stopped, my mind still whirling about Trevor and Stella and Ashley.
Why not?
“Hey, Mom,” I said again, wandering into the sitting room.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Do you remember the Bennetts?”
She seemed startled and perhaps ashamed for a second, but then she put herself together and closed the book, leaving her finger to mark the page.
“Of course. We saw quite a lot of them when you were little. I believe the boy goes to school with you now?”
I nodded. “Yeah, so… why did we stop seeing them?”
“They moved.”
Prefabricated untruth stink coming from a mile away.
“So…?” I pressed the issue.
Mom sighed. “Adriana… Mrs. Bennett died. Cancer.”
I had no idea. I hadn’t really seen Trevor's mother around, but I’d figured it was because I took pains not to see anyone related to him.
It made me feel wretched.
“He never said anything,” I muttered. He never spoke about his father either, or his pets.
Does he have pets?
What do I know about him anyway?
Okay, not going that way. Depression awaits there.
“Shouldn’t we have been closer to them, then? You know the drill, cookies and friendly support and such.”
Mom shifted.
So that’s what makes her uncomfortable.
“They moved, and then Mr. Bennett closed up. He didn’t look like he wanted visitors,” she explained, not believing a word she said. “Why do you ask?”
“Just realized I didn’t know the answer. I’m going up to my room. I got a lot of work, so I might not come down for dinner.”
She nodded and turned back to her book, and I mounted the stairs in a most unladylike fashion, my mind reeling. Somehow, mocking “Trevor, Dracula in Drag” felt great in comparison to mocking “Trevor, Whose Mom Died Tragically.” But they were one and the same, and I had been ignoring him and making fun of him for as long as high school had lasted.
Way to make myself feel better after an awesome day.
Dropping my bag and the textbooks haphazardly in a corner, I threw myself on the bed. I did have a lot of work, but I wouldn’t be able to get it done before I figured out the mess I was into.
Which meant it didn’t get done at all, because after a while of thinking, I fell asleep, dead to the world.
I didn’t dream that night.
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