Opposite Force

Chapter Ten

Mikaela Martin | Present

"Peyton is going to the shelter with you and Pete?" Mom asks, frowning.

"Yes," I confirm for the millionth time.

"Why?"

"He likes animals." Literally the only reason anyone ever goes to an animal shelter.

"But why does he want to go all of a sudden?"

I swallow the last of my tea and brace myself for the yelling and teasing. "He's my boyfriend," I mumble.

Evan chucks his near-empty cereal bowl at my head, shouting, "Ew!" while Ava lets out a high-pitched shriek of laughter that probably just woke residents of the nearby graveyard. My sweater is now host to soggy Frosted Flakes, but the twins' reactions are still better than Mom's, because she's just staring, wearing a very angry frown.

"I told you to be careful," she chastises.

"I am careful." Our dates have been stargazing, ice cream, pizza, and now volunteer work. Seems like the kind of relationship a parent should approve of.

"When did this happen?"

"Last night." I choose not to elaborate, not wanting to share the story. I already had to deal with an angry text from Liam saying that Peyton shouldn't have put me on the spot like that. Defending my boyfriend twice before nine in the morning is far too much.

"When can I meet him?"

"He's picking me up, so this morning." I wanted to meet Peyton at the shelter, but he insisted on driving so he could introduce himself to Mom.

"Mikaela! Why didn't you tell me? When is he getting here?" she exclaims.

"Uh..." I check my phone. "Ten minutes."

She huffs and stomps out of the kitchen, yelling at Evan to clean up his mess as she runs up the stairs, probably to put on makeup or blow dry her hair or something. I don't know why she cares about looking good. He's my boyfriend, not hers.

I ignore Evan and Ava's laughter and head to my room to change my shirt. The doorbell rings while I'm deciding between a blue sweater and a pink blouse. Panicking, I yank the sweater over my head and run down the hallway. I guess Peyton is rubbing off on me. I don't remember the last time I ran anywhere.

Running is pointless. He's already talking to Mom.

I inhale deeply, exhale slowly, and step up to the welcome mat. "Peyton, this is my mom. Mom, this is Peyton," I say, even though they definitely already introduced themselves.

"It's great to meet you, Mrs. Martin," Peyton says.

I flinch internally. I should have warned Peyton about this. Mom's last name is very much not Martin, and Mom is very, very, very much not Mrs. Martin.

"Call me Vicky," she says. I'm surprised not to hear any coldness in her voice. Mom hates being called anything but Vicky or Ms. Turner.

"Thanks, Vicky," he replies.

"We should get going if we don't want to be late," I say quickly. "Bye, Mom."

"Have fun," she sings, closing the door slowly behind her.

Should I tell him? I don't want Peyton to think my family is crazy. I mean, plenty of people get divorced, but what if Peyton's from one of those cute, wholesome families? No, he has a stepdad, so maybe his parents are divorced too.

I should probably tell him. "So, uh, not a big deal at all, but my mom's last name isn't exactly Martin. It's Turner. That's my brother and sister's last name too. I'm the only Martin." I pause. "Well, I'm the only Martin left," I clarify.