Twelve
Despite my mad dash back to Greenwood Ranch, when I arrived, our Tahoe sat in the driveway like a big green warning.
Great.
I considered hiding on the grounds for a while, avoiding the lecture of badness that awaited, but that was just delaying the inevitable and, worse, potentially sending Mom into a panic when she couldn’t track me down. I might as well face the somber, guilt-trippy music and get it over with.
I stuffed my hands into my pockets and climbed onto the porch. The door whipped open to reveal Mom, her blue eyes raking over my outfit before narrowing on the backpack slung over my shoulders.
“I was just going to check for you in the stables . . . but I see that won’t be necessary.” Her voice didn’t rise, and the way she opened the door wider in invitation seemed calm enough, but the white knuckles on the doorknob didn’t bode well.
Sure enough, once the door closed and sealed us in, she whirled, wiry arms crossed against her gray sweatshirt, feet shoulder-width apart and firmly planted. “Don’t make me put a tracking device on you.”
As she drew in a breath to berate me even more, I held up a hand. “I’ve got it, okay? Going to school was a stupid thing to do. Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”
With her startled expression giving her an owlish look behind her glasses, I ran for my bedroom and slammed the door.
I threw myself on the fluffy comforter. Nothing could persuade me to leave this house ever, ever again. I’d eat, sleep, and take up soap opera watching to pass the time. Maybe ride a horse or two, and act out pretend conversations with my imaginary friends.
And then Hunter’s text at three thirty-two p.m. changed everything.
Want to go out tonight?
I stared at the five words. Stared, and waited for my logic to laugh, no, guffaw, at the idea of meeting him after today’s fiasco. Even if I wanted to go, escaping this house would mean a huge operation in subterfuge. In fact, after today, I could see Mom carting me with her everywhere, on the tiniest, most boredom-inspiring errand, maybe even snapping a horse lead on me, just to ensure I didn’t pull another unauthorized school visit.
I waited for the logic, but instead got his sweet smell, the way his mouth curved slightly higher on one side than the other. The tiny mole that doubled as a dimple. And, most importantly, the way he made me feel so real.
The exact opposite of the way I’d felt today in the cafeteria.
Target: Down.
I pulled the comforter over my head but couldn’t block out the memory. Was this what I had to expect from here on out? I shivered, despite the warmth of the thick down fabric.
If so, then I had to see Hunter. I had to.
He was the only thing that could keep me from turning into a monster.
Under the safety of the covers, I texted him back.
Sure. Meet me @ the end of the driveway @ 7:30
His return text brought a smile to my face. A facial movement that, after the cafeteria fiasco, I’d been sure would disappear from my repertoire forever.
Then I closed my eyes and planned my escape.
