Otters

Chapter 5

"Shane, wake up," I heard my mom's voice whisper. "Shane, you have to get ready for school." She shook my shoulder.

"Five more minutes, Momma," I begged, my voice raspy, as my eyelids fluttered open and I ran my fingers through my thick hair. A snicker sounded as soon as I answered, but it wasn't from my mom. I glanced over across from me. It was Jo. "What the hell?" My mom slapped my arm. "Sorry, jeez." I yawned as my blurry vision cleared up. "What happened?"

"Jo's mom and I talked all night. You guys fell asleep out here." She rubbed her bloodshot eyes. "Now, c'mon. Let's get home so you can go to school." Momma pursed her lips.

"Alright, Momma." I yawned and stretched my arms out, yanking the blanket off my legs.

She started walking across the street.

Jo glanced over at me with a smug smile which caused her cute little nose to scrunch up. "Momma? Really?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Yeah, it's what I've always called her," I said defensively.

Jo drew her lips to shape an O. "I guess I'll see you later," she said as she stood up and reached towards the sky to stretch.

I took a deep breath as I stood up and grabbed Cindy's journal from the stair. "Yeah, whatever," I muttered under my breath.

Jo sauntered inside, her long golden hair trailing behind her slender back. She turned around at the door and glanced at me with a curious look in her eyes. She raised her eyebrow and smirked, knowing that I was staring at her. She held her hand up and waved.

I rolled my eyes, shoved my hands and Cindy's journal in my pockets, and headed on over to my house. As soon as I entered the kitchen, I slammed the book on the counter and stomped up to my room.

How come I never even though about the journal? Why didn't I tear apart that house, looking for it when I was desperate for answers? It could've solved everything.

I beat the wall with the side of my fist and grit my teeth.

"Shane! Get ready for school!" my mom shouted from her room as she got ready for work at the hospital.

I took a quick shower and rubbed my hair dry with a towel. I pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans, a white T-shirt, and a burgundy hoodie. I grabbed my black Chuck Taylor's that had been thrown in the back of my closet then laced them up. I took a quick preview of myself in the mirror, shook my head to get the mop of brown wavy hair out of my eyes, and headed downstairs.

As soon as I walked into the kitchen, I stopped in my tracks, stunned, and felt the defensive and secretive walls build up. "Momma? What're you doing?" I asked, my voice solid and stern.

She stood, leaning against the counter, dressed in her scrubs, with Cindy's journal open. Her eyes widen when she sees me. "I'm sorry, Shane. I was curious."

"No, stop, Momma. You can't look at it." My voice rose as I ripped the book from her hands. I could feel my cheeks getting hot with anger. "Don't look at my stuff!"

She straightened herself up to me. "Don't you dare talk to me like that."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Momma, it's my stuff. This is all I have left of her! What if you ruined it by spilling your coffee on it or something?" I yanked y backpack from the kitchen table and forcefully slung it over my shoulder. "Jeez, Momma, you're so stupid. Don't you ever think?"

Her jaw dropped slightly and I knew I hit a nerve. That exactly what my dad said to her when he left her. She had been complaining about how she knew he was cheating on her and he argued back that he was a man and men have needs and that woman was fulfilling his needs. She told him that she thought they were happy and then he responded with, "Of course we aren't happy, Lucinda! Gosh, you're so stupid, woman! Don't you ever think?" And then he left her.