The Return: Death, Runaways, and Romance (Ocean Mist Book 3)
Page 18
She leveled her eyes at me with no expression. “So?”
“I think we have enough medical bills with Mom.”
Tiffany gave a throaty laugh, and for some reason, the sound made me shiver.
“I’m thirteen, Court. Hardly think I’m dying of cancer yet.”
I watched the waves chase each other in quick succession. Gulls swooped over the water in a pulsing dance, screeching their loud cries. I raised my face to the wind and shut my eyes.
“What are you doing? Praying?” Tiffany asked.
I fluttered my eyes back open, then narrowed them against the breeze. “No, but I should be.”
She leaned around and stuck her face up into mine. “Praying for your sister who’s going to hell. Is that it?”
I backed away from her foul nicotine breath and scrambled to a standing position. “You coming or not?”
She stood and picked up the pack of cigarettes and lighter I hadn’t noticed lying on the walkway against her side. She tucked them both into her hoodie pocket.
“Might as well. Won’t get any peace otherwise.”
I marched off ahead of her. “None of us ever get any peace,” I mumbled to myself.
****
After dropping Tiffany off at school, I made it back in time for my Spanish exam, which was a huge relief. I thought I did okay on it, too.
On the way to fifth period, Keegan caught up to me. “What was the call about?”
“Tiffany.”
“I should have known. Where’d you go?”
“To find her. She was skipping again. I found her down on the boardwalk.”
He looked at me, his deep brown gaze full of compassion. I blinked back the sudden moisture in my eyes.
“No big deal,” I said. “I took her back to school.”
“Why doesn’t your mom deal with that stuff?”
Yeah, why didn’t she? I knew only too well, but I didn’t feel like digging around in the drama.
“Busy at work.”
He nodded, but I could see he wasn’t satisfied. He rested his hand on my arm for a moment, and I wished for the zillionth time he liked me for more than a friend. We arrived at my World Problems room, and he split for his class. I walked in and sat beside Amara, who was waiting for me.
“Let me guess. Tiffany, right?”
I nodded. Amara didn’t question why I was the one to find her. She knew the whole sordid story, which saved me having to explain or make excuses. It was what it was, and Amara understood.
She flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder and gave me a half-smile. “At least you got to come back to school this time. I guess you’re getting better at finding her.”
“Tiffany didn’t try very hard today. She was on the boardwalk.”
“Must have wanted you to find her.”
“She was smoking again.”
Amara shrugged. “You can’t control everything.”
“Tell that to my mom.”
Mrs. Dyker clapped her hands in the front of the room. “Good afternoon, all. Let’s get started. Jonathon, you have our current news report today, so let’s hear it.”
Jonathon went forward with his news clipping, and class got under way.
****
After school, I swung by the elementary school first to pick up Denny. He jumped into the front seat and threw his backpack and lunch pail into the back.
“Cool! I get front seat today. Where’s Tiff?” He raised his legs and rested his ratty sneakers on the dashboard. “How come she’s not here?”
“Put your feet down, and we’re going to pick her up now.”
He gazed at me with brown eyes wise way beyond his nine years.
“You mad at her again?”
“Why do you ask?”
He patted his head, feeling the pricks of his butch haircut, like he always did. “Whenever you’re mad at her, you pick me up first.”
“Maybe I got you first because I’m dying to be with you. Ever think of that?”
He grimaced. “Yeah, right.”
I pulled into the middle school parking lot and saw Tiffany sprawled on the bottom two steps to the school. Three other girls sat with her, all of them dressed like they’d been cast in some trashy music video. Misfits, all of them.
When Tiffany noticed our approach, she stood, grabbed one strap of her backpack, and dragged it to the car. The other girls stared from under the lashes of their heavily made-up ghoulish eyes.
Tiffany opened the front passenger door. “Out,” she ordered Denny. “Front seat is mine.”
“Not this time.” He stuck his tongue out, something only Denny would have the nerve to do. Denny got away with way more than either Mom or I did. For some odd reason, Tiffany liked him. And she didn’t like much of anyone.
“Then scooch over, I’m coming in.” She plopped herself on top of him.
“Gross!” he cried and scrambled over the back of the seat to land with a thud on the floorboards.
Tiffany wiggled her skinny butt in place and slammed the door. “Home,” she ordered, staring straight ahead.
Denny reached forward and tugged on her black hair. “My turn next time.”
She craned her neck to glance at him. “You wish, my man. You wish.”
Denny sighed in protest, leaned back into the seat, and buckled up.
When we got home, I readjusted the heat, turning it back up to where Denny had cranked it earlier. It was March, but the west winds off the Pacific would blow cold for another couple months. I shivered, jealous of the coastal towns in California that boasted constant sunshine and warm water.
I dug in the freezer searching for something to cook for dinner and found a package of chicken wings that would be quick to fix; plus, there was a can of beans in the cupboard.
“Start your homework, Denny. Mom’s going to be home any minute.”
Dennis plunked his books onto the kitchen table with a loud slap. “I’d rather play games. I want a break first.”
“You’ll get a break when you’re done with your homework. Now get going.” I pulled a baking sheet from the oven drawer and dropped the frozen chicken wings on it, each wing pinging the metal surface.
Tiffany grabbed a can of orange soda from the fridge and started toward the stairs.
“Get your homework started, too, Tiff. Please.”
Tiffany stopped and glared. “I don’t have homework.” She walked close to the stove until she was inches from my face. “And you’re not my boss.”
She turned and rambled up the stairs as if taking a slow walk on the sand, swaying her bony hips with every step.
My stomach tightened, and I yanked open the oven and shoved in the chicken. Clunking everything as loudly as possible, I grabbed the saucepan, dumped in the beans, and slammed it on the burner. Bean juice slopped up, spraying my arm.
If I knew where Dad had run off to, I’d call him and demand he take Tiffany off my hands. He could deal with her for the next one hundred years. It was more than his turn.
Yeah, like he’d surface anytime soon. The jerk.
My life was filled with jerks.
The front door opened, and Mom came through with her daily heaving sigh.
Denny jumped up and met her at the door. “Hey, Mom. I’ll take your purse.”
She handed him her bulky gray bag and sank onto the couch. “Thanks, Denny baby.”
“Well?” she asked, settling into the cushions and turning her dark gaze on me. Her voice had a throaty harshness — a grating mix of irritation and exhaustion. The usual combo.
She never greeted me anymore when she got home. Instead, she honed straight in on whatever it was I was supposed to have fixed for the day.
“Hello to you, too, Mom,” I said, my anger as hot as the burner on the stove. I gave the beans a violent stir.
“Don’t get sarcastic with me, young lady.” She leaned back into the couch and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Too many words at once after a full day at work, and she momentarily lost her ene
rgy.
A twinge of guilt made me put down the spoon and go sit by her on the couch. “Tiff was on the boardwalk. I took her back to school, and she’s upstairs now.”
Mom scooted sideways, and I scrambled up to get out of the way so she could raise her feet to the couch.
“My knees are killing me. Killing me.”
“Did you take your meds?”
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Thank you for taking the time to read The Return. As a writer of YA, I strive to make each of my works as entertaining and enjoyable as possible, and I hope this book has impacted your life in a positive way. If you feel someone else would benefit from this work, I would be very grateful if you posted a positive review on Amazon. To do so, Click Here, and it will take you directly to the book page.
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Other Books in the Ocean Mist Series:
Player
Buried Truth
Seeking Christmas
Cornered
Books in the Edgemont Series:
The Lance Temptation
Along Came Jordan
Farah’s Deadline
Lizbet’s Lie
Other Books by Brenda
Hollybrook Amish Romance Series
Someday You’ll Laugh
Dating Advice for Girls from the Guys Teen Guys Speak Out!
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