I walk into last period photography and catch a ridiculing look from the teacher as I pass by his desk. The trial for my mom’s case started a few days ago. Most people’s reaction toward me is pretty much the same: long, judgmental stares, and mild whispers. I wish everyone’s despise for my mother would remain just that—for her. But she isn’t here facing the swamps of high school fodder. I am. It’s me they talk about, as if I’m the one in the court room defending one of Tampa’s most hated men.
We’re nearly halfway through the school year, and I’ve been dodging condemning side-glares this whole time. Surprisingly, most of the negative attention comes from the teachers, not the students. I guess teenagers have better things to do than sit at home and watch the evening news. Thank God, because if they knew half of what the media has been reporting on this case, they’d be treating me a million times worse than the staff.
“He’s a middle-aged prick,” Micah mutters when I drop my books onto my desk, having seen Mr. Berrystine’s reaction to me.
“I’m so ready for Thanksgiving break. I’m sick of this place.”
Micah gives my shoulder a supportive squeeze when I slump in the seat next to him. I glance up to the head of the class to find that old Berrystine is still looking my way, but he’s distracted when Trent strolls in with a loud, “First one done, losers!” and drops his mid-term project portfolio loudly on the teacher’s desk.
“I said not to turn projects in early.”
Ignoring Mr. Berrystine’s irritation, he makes his way to the back of the class, responding carelessly, “Shit’ll get lost if I hang on to it.”
“Language!”
“Sorry, sir.” He slings his bag over the back of his chair, claps hands with Micah, and turns to me with a smirk.
“You know he can’t stand you, right?” I say.
“Can you blame him? He’s expired and still has to show up here every day. Dude’s life has got to suck.”
When the bell rings, we head back into the darkroom to waste away the last hour of school. I was thrilled when I found out we all got this class together. It’s the easiest A senior class that’s offered even though the teacher has the crotchetiest attitude ever.
While other students are soaking their photos in the developer, the three of us sit on the floor in the back corner of the room.
“Bunny alert,” Micah says while I’m laughing at the story Trent’s telling me.
Within the dim red glow of the room, Katy walks over to the developer station, eyes me as if I’m some gross leper, and sets her film canister on the counter.
“Is that seriously all you’re going to do today?” she sneers my way, but only my way, because she cares too much about maintaining good graces with the boys in this school.
I ignore her. It’s hard enough looking at her, let alone actually speaking to her. Knowing that she and Kason hooked up still needles on my heart, and I think it’s even worse since after all this time together, we’ve yet to have sex. Not that Kason doesn’t want to. He does. And I do, too. But I’m nervous and scared. Every time we edge closer to crossing the line, I panic and make him stop. So, having to see Katy every day is far from ideal.
Micah slips his arm around my shoulders. He understands why I’m so tense around her. Apparently, she made it no secret of what happened between her and Kason during their sophomore year.
“I can’t stand her,” I mumble under my breath.
“She’s only a bitch because she’s jealous. Don’t take it personally.”
She stands over the soaking trays with such arrogance in her too-short shorts, and Micah grimaces when he hears my teeth grind.
“What the hell are you guys doing back here?” Kason says when he walks in, opening the door without warning and exposing all the developing paper to light.
“Dammit, Kase,” Katy snaps at the same time I jump to my feet and throw my arms around him.
“What are you doing here?”
“We had a sub and the teacher didn’t leave her with any work to give to us, so—”
“Pretty boy is ditching,” Micah teases. “There’s a first.”
Katy turns on her heels with a huff. “Do you mind? You just destroyed my photos.”
“Your pictures suck anyway,” Trent says as we walk back out to the classroom.
“What’s all the commotion?”
Micah approaches the teacher’s desk and distracts him while Trent and I grab our bags and sneak out the door with Kason. Running down the hall, we turn the corner and wait. A minute later, Micah’s rushing toward us. “Let’s go.”
Kason grabs my hand, and we make a run for it when we hear Mr. Berrystine holler, “You kids better get back here.”
I burst out laughing as Kason pulls me through the halls, and the moment we hit the parking lot, my feet drag as I try to catch my breath.
“Hop on.” Kason turns and bends so I can jump on his back.
“Where are we going?”
“Beach,” Trent calls out to me.
Kason sets me on my feet when we get to our cars. “You two have fun.”
“You’re not coming?”
“Another day, man,” Kason tells them, still eager to spend as much alone time with me as he can while my mom’s at work, and before Micah and Trent can give us a hard time, we both hop into our cars.
Trent flips us the bird as Kason and I pull out of our parking spots, and I blow him a kiss in good fun.
When we make it to my house, the alarm is already off.
“Mom?”
“In here,” she answers from her office.
“Let’s go to my place,” Kason teases, and I nudge him in the ribs.
“She already knows we’re here. Plus, I still haven’t talked to her about Thanksgiving.”
The two of us walk into her office and find her buried behind a stack of files as she taps away on her laptop.
“What are you doing home?”
“Judge called an early recess,” she responds without looking my way as she continues typing at a million miles an hour. “I swear, that lead prosecutor is raking on my last nerve. It’s taking everything in me not to have an outburst in the courtroom.” She stabs her keyboard a couple of more times with her fingers before giving up and closing the lid down.
“Bad day?”
“You have no idea.”
Kason and I walk over to the leather couch in the corner of the room where the sitting area is.
She takes a look at her phone, and then eyes the two of us suspiciously. “What are you doing home from school already?”
“We, uhh . . .”
“Think twice,” she warns Kason with affection, to which he responds with nothing but a devious smile.
“You two skipped out, didn’t you?”
“Thirty minutes early on the last day before Thanksgiving break. You can’t possibly get mad over that.”
“Even if I wanted to get mad, I don’t have the energy. But it’s fine.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, but you’ve been so busy that I keep forgetting. Can Kason hang out with us for Thanksgiving?”
“What about your family?” she asks him.
He shifts next to me, having not expected to be questioned since I was supposed to have already asked my mom. And now that he’s here, I know he’s caught off guard.
“My mother has to work.”
“Work? On Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah,” I pipe in. “So, it’s okay, right?”
“Of course it’s okay,” she tells me before looking back at him. “You’re always welcome here, but surely your mom isn’t working all day, so you should invite her over for a little bit. It’d be nice to meet her.”
With his arms braced on his knees, he wrings his hands nervously. I can tell by the look in my mom’s eyes that she knows something is up. With her job, she’s a pro at reading into body language.
“Yeah, I can ask her if she’d want to stop by.”
She comes over and sits in a chair next to the couch. My stomach somersaults when she crosses her legs.
“Why do I get the feeling you have no intention of asking her?”
“Mom,” I chastise. “Why are you being so rude?”
He leans forward and hangs his head, and I grow anxious for him because I remember how much it upset him when he originally lied to my mother about what his mom does for a living. He isn’t a deceitful person, but it was hard enough for him to open up to me with the truth about his life. Now, here’s my mom, fishing around where I don’t want her to be fishing. I know how much he fears her finding out the truth, and I would be lying if I were to say I didn’t share the same fears. I’m scared she’ll judge him, even though I can’t imagine her being that way, but what if? What if she doesn’t want me seeing him because she doesn’t think he’s good enough?
“Kason?” Her tone is of concern. “I’m pretty good at knowing when someone is hiding something.”
He lifts his head, and his muscles tense when I touch his back
“Mom, please. Just drop it.”
“You’re right,” he says to her, ignoring me, and I go still. He releases a defeated breath through his nose. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
He’s painted in apprehension and insecurity, and I slip my fingers through his, offering what little support I can.
“My mother doesn’t work in event planning. I lied to you.”
“Why?”
His palm sweats against mine.
“Because I was embarrassed, and I hadn’t even told Adaline about my mom at the time. The truth is, I don’t live around here.” He shifts uncomfortably and clears his throat. “My mom and I live up north in a small apartment. I don’t come from money like your daughter. We don’t have any money at all, and my mother works two jobs. At night, she waits tables and during the day she works at a call center.”
When he stops talking, he’s squeezing my hand hard. My mother then stands, steps over to us, and sits on the other side of Kason. She takes a moment as the two of them look at each other before saying, “My daughter loves you. It isn’t something she even has to tell me because it’s written all over her. And when I met you, it was easy for me to understand why she felt the way she did about you. You’re a young man who works hard, you’re polite and respectful, and I see how much you love Ady in return. In the end, that’s all that really matters to me.” Her eyes skate around the room and then fall back on the boy I love. “And all of this . . . this is my life. Ady will choose her own life, though. A life that may or may not look like this one. As long as she is happy and content, then I’m happy and content.”
Leaning in, I rest my head against his arm, and I can feel his body slacken in relief along with mine.
“This is my daughter, Kason. She’s the most precious thing in my life. With that said, moving forward, I need you to be honest with me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
She lays her hand over ours, which are still clutched together, and says, “I understand. I do. And I’m sorry that this is something you felt you couldn’t share with me.”
“Adaline is important to me, and I worried you wouldn’t want me around her if you knew,” he admits.
“And you’re important to me as well. I hope you know I would never judge you, Kason.” She then stands, smiles, and lifts the tension when she says, “But just so you know, if you’re coming over for Thanksgiving, your butt will be in that kitchen helping me cook.”
“We’re not ordering out?” he quips as the two of us get off the couch.
“Don’t tempt me.”
Solaced with the truth exposed and relieved that there is nothing but understanding in return from my mother, I give her a hug. “Thank you, Mom.”
She whispers her love for me and tells us to get lost so she can get some more work done. We leave her office, and when I shut the door behind us, I can’t kiss him fast enough. I taste contentment and relief, which is a flavor that follows us into the next day when he kisses me after helping my mother clean the kitchen after Thanksgiving dinner.
This holiday was so much better than any in the past because of him. Nothing but laughter and happiness fills this house. And as I lie in his arms while we swing in the hammock out by the pool, I trace the lines of his face with the tips of my fingers, determined to engrain everything about him in this moment into my soul. Because I’ve never seen him as happy as he is today.
“This feels like a dream,” I murmur peacefully. “You feel like a dream.”
He takes my hand from his face and presses his lips to the inside of my palm. “Then let’s never wake up.”