KissnTell

Chapter 6

THE OTHER HALF

Anais

"I—I don't understand," my mom uttered.

I cringed, massaging my temples, my eyes squeezed shut as she struggled to comprehend what exactly had taken place to make us—well, mainly Vaughn—so traumatized. It was painful, really, how naïve my mother was. I guess high schools in 1983 were all sunshine and roses, at least for her. After all, she would have been one of them. A Stella or an Odette or an Ava.

"They put prescription medication in your drinks?" She was incredulous, repeatedly snapping her eyes from the road to look at me, to make sure I was telling the truth. I noticed a light turn red on Rodeo while she was staring me down and we careened toward a stopped Range Rover.

"Mom!" I gasped, motioning to the red light ahead. "Watch the road!"

She slammed on the breaks, causing Vaughn, who apparently hadn't had the strength to buckle her seat belt, to tumble to the floor. She moaned. I whipped around to check on her. She didn't bother to pick herself up. She just lay there on the floor, rocking, gripping her abdomen.

My mom reached around to pet her. "Vaughn, baby? I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

Vaughn provided no response other than a prolonged groan. Mom's face creased with concern.

I shook my head and whispered, "She'll be okay."

My mom sighed. "In my day it wasn't like this," she lamented.

"Mom," I said, "Do you really want to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Do you really want to start sentences with in my day...?"

She shook her head. "If my shock over the fact that kids have taken to poisoning people makes me sound old, then so be it," she snapped.

I guess I saw her point. In fact, it felt good to have someone outraged on my behalf. She glanced at me. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Why?" I shrugged, desperately trying to sound casual as my voice cracked.

"I'm sorry I encouraged you to go to that party," she said.

I turned to her, stunned, tears springing to my eyes. "You didn't—"

"I did," she corrected. "I could tell you didn't want to go. You were scared. I'm your mother, I know these things. But I guess I thought it was just nerves or insecurity or something." She paused and took a breath. "I should have listened to you."

"You couldn't have known," I murmured.

"I couldn't have known the extent of it. Only a total sicko would dream up that little scheme," she said, speeding up to make it through a yellow light. Once safely across the intersection, she reached over and touched my knee. Her hand was cold from resting too close to the AC vent. I flinched a little. "I should have trusted you," she whispered.

"It's okay," I managed, fully crying now. Sealed in our Volvo, I was relaxed, comfortable. For the first time all night, I could really let go.

"Anais, you're the most thoughtful person I know. I just have to learn to accept that sometimes my baby's instincts are sharper than mine," she said, smiling warmly.

"Thanks," I squeaked.

I put my head in my hands and let myself cry. Even though I had an amazing mother, a great best friend, and a car to whisk me to shelter—even though I knew I was lucky—it still hurt. It felt confusing and unfair.