❝ Why do I feel like I'm just a chapter in your book while you're my entire story? ❞
❝ Well, you're obviously wrong, because you're my entire novel, cover to cover. ❞
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A blank canvas. That's how my life was. Until she took my hand...
12. chapter twelve: what's up with girls and secret snickers?
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"Guess that game worked perfectly!"
I craned my neck to look at Misty. The girl was smiling widely. I followed her gaze to find Drew visiting May in our class.
It was a fifteen-minute interval between classes. I loved them, especially since no teacher would show up, partly because of their meetings.
"Yeah. Lucky them."
Misty punched my shoulder, and I yelped as it stung. "Ouch, what the hell was that for?!"
"Stop sulking and be happy for them!"
I snorted. "I would be if that guy treated May right. You do realize how many girls are crazy for him, don't you?" I leaned on my desk and secretly took a peek at them.
May was ruffling the boy's hair, her face teasing. Drew, on the other hand, seemed to be masking his enjoyment. "Why wouldn't he? He's only had eyes for her, apparently. Dawn mentioned that."
I turned my eyes away from the pair, feeling that watching them would be a breach of the little privacy they could get in a crowded classroom. "I hope so. Or he'll have to taste my fist."
Misty let out a small scream. "Geez! You say the same thing about Gary—"
I turned on her sharply. "Of course I do. I don't like it when guys hurt a girl's feelings."
For some reason, the girl took on a softer look. "Is that because of your dad?"
I considered the question, doodling absentmindedly on my desk. Was that the reason?
Mom had always been a single mother. She never once discouraged me from doing anything. Sure, she made my ears throb whenever I did something reckless, but I couldn't exactly blame her.
I guess... If I had a kid of my own and that kid threw himself in front of a charging bull just so it wouldn't hurt his dog, I think I would be worried sick. Not to mention, I'd give him a piece of my mind, even if I were proud of him for wanting to protect his family.
But imagining raising one without a mother—that gave me shivers. As much as I liked kids, they could be a bit of a handful.
I chuckled softly, wondering how my mom even managed to tame my wild spirit when I was around her.
She had a partner who ran out on her for whatever reason. The loss of someone dear, the betrayal of that traitor, would still leave a scar deep down, even if she didn't show it. On top of that, there was this annoying, academic-bashing, reckless kid stuck at her hip. Maybe I should give her a call after school.
"Ash, I'm sor—"
"I guess that's the reason," I replied, cutting Misty off. "Even if Mom doesn't show how hurt she is, I can feel it. A child always feels it."
