Angelica "Freak Two" Munson

Chapter 23

"Thanks again, Jonathan!" Angie calls as she slams the door behind her, almost bouncing with relief.

She barely takes a second to catch her breath before rushing to the phone, her leg jittering nervously as she dials Steve's number. 

The ring hums in her ear, each vibration making her more impatient.

"Hello?"

It's a woman's voice. 

Maybe his mother? 

Angie stiffens, realizing the uncertainty in her own tone.

"Hi... is Steve home?" She tries to keep her voice light, casual, sweet even.

"Um... who is this?"

Shit.

"I'm a friend from school," she says quickly, forcing a small laugh to cover the rising panic.

"You're probably his newest skank, aren't you? Are you the one he's running around with now?"

First of all, ouch. 

Second, definitely his mother. 

And third... well, yes, absolutely.

"I'm... not exactly sure what you mean by that," Angie says, forcing a polite smile into her voice, "but I'm just calling about a school project." Internally, she groans at her own awkwardness.

"Look," the woman continues, voice dripping with disapproval, "there's no way Steve is actually working on a school project. Don't call here again."

Then—click.

The call ends. Angie drops the receiver with a sigh, feeling equal parts insulted and amused.

Rude as it was, she can't help but take a grim comfort in the insight: Steve's parents are as awful as she imagined. 

Cold, critical, impossible to please. 

Her mind immediately goes to a vow she hadn't thought of before in such concrete terms: she would never let Steve believe he was half as bad as either of them. 

She'd never let anyone treat him—or any kid—the way his mother just had.

An hour passes. 

No call. 

Not even a missed call alert. 

Angie assumes his mother didn't tell him she had called. 

She hoped, maybe, that he might reach out on his own.

By now it's just past five. 

Eddie had picked up the earlier shift tonight, trying to squeeze in extra hours in case anything happened again with Angie—just in case he had to step away and care for her. 

He was worried; he'd always be worried, and she felt that care like a comforting weight in the back of her mind.

Angie decides to occupy herself. 

Slowly, deliberately, she prepares a pot of macaroni and cheese with hotdogs—the easiest comfort food she can make, something small that makes her feel better. 

After she finishes the whole pot, she washes the dishes carefully, refusing to let herself slump too much on the couch. 

She tells herself she's fine. 

He's probably busy. 

You don't need his attention anyway. 

You're independent.