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CHAPTER SIX
☆☆☆
THE DINNER TABLE IS QUIET, We haven't said anything all night, but I'm sure we're thinking of the same thing. Sage. My mother is most likely wondering why she left and if everything is okay.
I, on the other hand, am worried. It's been an hour since she left, and I don't know if she's okay. She made it clear she wouldn't be going home today, so where is she? Did she eat? Does she hate me?
Why do I care this much anyway?
I'm not sure why I'm so caught up on this girl. I don't do this. I don't have crushes or fall in love. I don't constantly think about one person-at least not anymore. But here she comes, making me feel things I swore I'd never let myself feel again.
I sigh, poking my fork through the chicken pot pie my mom made. She put them in mini portions, one for each of us. It's delicious. I just don't have the energy or the appetite to eat right now.
I want to stand up and leave the table, but I'm scared she'll think something's wrong. Every time I refuse to eat or lose interest, she assumes I'm about to go through another episode, and I don't want that. I just want to-
I just want to make sure she's okay.
But I can't. She didn't leave a number, and I barely know enough about her to guess where she hangs out. I pause, thinking back to some nights before. The rig. That's where I saw her the second time.
Hope fills me as I realize there's a chance she could be there.
I flip my phone over, instantly getting my mom's attention. I tap the screen and check the time (19:24). It's not that late. I can convince my mom to let me leave. Right?
I glance up to see her already watching me.
I look down at her food. She hasn't touched it either.
"Just go, Cory," she says, her face exhausted.
I'm not exactly sure if she meant leave the dinner table or go out, but I have a feeling she knows what I'm thinking.
I stand up, grab my food, and put it in the microwave. I'll probably eat later, when I'm in a better mood.
I rush to my room and flick the light on, wasting no time grabbing the nearest jacket and sweatpants I can find. I don't even register what they look like-I'm in too much of a hurry.
A hurry to make sure she's okay.
I sigh as I slide my shoes on, suddenly feeling like a pathetic loser for caring this much. She's probably fine. She's a big girl who's survived seventeen years without me. Why do I care?
I open the door anyway.
"I love you, Mom," I say, poking my head back in.
I don't wait for her to say it back before leaving.
