The Art of Mending Memories

The Art of Mending Memories 13

The Art Of Mending Memories

Chapter 13

"So what are you going to do until five?" Paul asked me.

We were in the biology room, and the bell was about to ring. My day had gone from sucky to...still sucky. I was glad that I wasn't going home though; that would have made my day so much worse.

"First, I'm going to talk to Mr. Keith. I have to tell him I'm not going to be there for dinner. And I need the textbook to do my homework. Then I figured I'll just work on homework while I waited for your soccer practice to end."

Paul nodded. "Okay. And I told Michael he could drive the car home, 'cause then we can take yours. His practice doesn't end until six anyway." Michael was Paul's younger brother.

Then it was my turn to nod my head. I opened my mouth to respond, but the bell rang, swallowing my words. I closed my mouth and picked up my bag. Paul and I walked out of the room with the rest of the students in our biology class.

"Dude, you ready for practice?" I turned to the source of the voice and saw Chris had caught up to Paul's other side. Sarella wasn't around.

"Yeah, I guess," Paul replied to Chris.

Paul turned to me. "You okay?" I nodded my head. "Okay, see you later," he told me before turning down the hallway.

I continued down another hallway, on my way to Mr. Keith's room. People rushed past me on their way to club rooms, athletic practices, parking lots, and other various locations.

"Hey, old man," I greeted as I walked through the door.

Mr. Keith looked up from his desk and smiled at me. "Good afternoon, Miss Apples."

"Why so formal?"

He shrugged. "I felt like it."

I rolled my eyes.

"May I borrow a book to do my homework?" I asked.

"You lost the text book already? It's the second week of school!" He yelled incredulously at me.

"Relax. It's at home." I told the horse-shifter.

"Then why don't you go home and get it?"

I sighed and dropped heavily onto the seat in front of Mr. Keith's desk. I put my arms on the desk and laid my head on top of them. Inhaling, I lifted my head back up.

"Aunt Jane and I are still in a fight." I told him quietly.

Mr. Keith gasped quietly. "Still? Is it really serious?"

I nodded my head. "Since Saturday morning. I've hardly spoken to her since."

"Oh my God," he whispered. "What are you fighting over?"

"What else could it be except werewolf boy?" I said with a humorless laugh.

"She wants you to be more open and accepting of him, doesn't she?"

I nodded my head, yet again, my throat too choked up to say anything. Moisture started pooling at the corners of my eyes. I bit my lip. I took a deep breath. Then another one. I breathed evenly a few more times until my tears vanished and my throat loosened. It had lasted only a few seconds, but that was plenty enough for Mr. Keith to notice and hold up a box if tissues that appeared out of nowhere.

I declined the tissues.

"Are you still going to be there for dinner?" He asked.

I shook my head. "I'm sleeping over Paul's. I'm not going home. That's why I need the textbook."