What I Couldn't Tell Him

7 - The 𝐶𝐿𝐼𝐶𝐻𝐸 Highschool Laws of Social Status

ALDEN POV

I walked downstairs to find my mother already inside. This is the first day she has come home before nine in almost a year. I have been counting.

"Hello, Alden!" She greets me like an acquaintance.

"Hi. How was work?" I reply, busying myself with the washing up. I am scared that I will say something I don't want to think. I don't like being bitter. I don't like holding her to this standard and wanting things she doesn't have to give me. Things like affection. She gives us money and she doesn't forget our birthdays and she isn't mean. We're all good.

"Oh. The usual. So busy. Now tell me about school! Do you have a girlfriend? Anything to tell me?" She asks casually. I shake my head.

"Nope."

"Well, I heard we have new neighbours." She attempts.

I nod.

"Yeah. The Perrons' don't really socialise much."

"Oh, so you know them!" She smiles.

"Mmm. Kind of. They have a daughter called Jaimie in my year." I say. I'm trying to be vague but it's hard to strip my words down. She has been quite obstinately in my head for a little while now.

"Is she nice? Pretty? Clever?" She quizzes.

I am tired of our compressed catchup sessions. I am supposed to explain a few months in an hour. I wish we could admit that we weren't close and we'd never be. She might text me, in three or four weeks, about something I told her; something long gone and irrelevant. Our lives don't really run alongside each other.

"Erm... She's okay. Tried to get me out of detention." I answer truthfully.

"That sound more than okay!" She exclaims. It's almost as if she thinks this attention will counteract the weeks of silence. Like an intense shot of maternal care equals weeks of a normal amount.

"Well, she has called me an arsehole to compensate," I explain.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing much. She doesn't respect the cliche high school laws of social status." I mumble. My mother has read and discarded enough detention notes to be aware of my social position, and other things about me.

"I hardly blame her." She chuckles.

I scowl a little.

"You haven't met her!" I say. She shrugs and smiles.

"I know, but I would rather you had a girl-next-door than a slag." I look at her, slightly disturbed by mum using that word. It doesn't feel right. I almost want to pull her up, but a montage of conversations with Jordan flickers through my head. Instead I focus on the accusation.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I say defensively.

"I found a bra in your room." She comments, annoyingly nonchalant, and I take a deep breath, face warming.

"Anyway, you should sleep! It's nearly ten." She says. I laugh and nod. It's a ridiculous thing to say and she doesn't realise it. It's like she thinks I'm 15.

"Goodnight! Erin said she wants you to tuck her in!" She calls after me. I smile a little. I knock on Erin's door.

"Hey Ally."

"Hey Erin. You ready for school tomorrow?" I smile. She frowns and crosses her arms.

"Mrs Harris is a bi-"

"Woah!" I cut her off. I am such a bad example. I'm such a shitty brother.

"What?" She says innocently. I laugh a little, trying to forget about the sourness in my stomach. Sometimes I really piss myself off.