Teen Rebellion // S.R. ✓

CHAPTER THIRTY

Graduation

Your mom was supposed to call you. She didn't.

You've been sitting at the phone for an hour now and the only person who's called has been your grandma in Texas. You were grateful for that call, but it wasn't who you were waiting for.

Your mom has gone ghost for a while now and you haven't heard anything from her. She's sent you money every week or two, but without a message. All it is is money, which you don't complain about, but it's without a message. Not even a "here's $300 dollars. -mom."

You should hate her. She called you a whore and made unnecessary jokes about your looks, but she's your mother and you'd like to know where she went months ago. You'd told her about graduation in September, told her how you were going to buy her a ticket and she told you she would be there... but it's the day of and she hasn't appeared nor called, not even sent a message.

"She's not coming," Penelope whispers, wrapping her arms around your neck. She squeezes you tightly, laying a kiss on your scorching hot cheek. You've been crying because of the overwhelming realization that you're graduating, the loneliness of not having Spencer by your side, and now the addition of your mother's absence. Everything has been crashing down, but at least you're graduating.

"I know," you sniffle, wiping your nose with the back of your already snot-infested hand. "I just thought she would call... maybe."

Penelope whines, shaking you in her embrace. She's upset as well; she's just better at hiding it. "I know, sugar plum, but you just can't trust her."

Your mother has never been a trust-worthy woman. She's promised you toys and trips and books or some form of praise after a hard-working day at school, but when you would bring it to her attention, she would create an excuse and make up an unbelievable lie that left you heartbroken. You've known to never make promises, to never bring an event to her knowledge with the belief that she'll attend or at least make a quick appearance, because she won't. But the problem is, you keep apologizing for her and brushing it off, as if she's never broken a promise before. She's broken dozens, of course. You simply want everyone to believe she's tried her hardest.

But she hasn't.

You stare down at the dingy white home phone that's turned a shade of yellow, snapping your eyes to the black letters on the screen each time they flicker. Penelope keeps her arms around your neck, rubbing your arms until you're warm enough to sleep. You keep your eyes wide open and your mouth shut until she returns her arms to her sides and runs along, leaving you in the basement all alone.

The last step of the stair creaks and the door clicks, giving you enough time to break down. You bring your knees up to your chest and lay your head in between, covering your ears with your palms. Tears trickle down your cheeks and onto your white t-shirt, staining the fabric with your black teardrops.

"I hate you," you whisper, hoping somehow your mom listens and decides to call. You repeat those three words, leading you into a fit of sobs and shaking limbs you can't seem to control. You've cried so much since prom— a month ago, two days ago. You've been left to decompose beneath your sheets, sinking back into your mattress and the pillows that were meant to keep you afloat.

You've been locked in your room for some time, only leaving for school or groceries if Penelope is out with Derek and Emily. You've managed to not run into Spencer anywhere unless it's set up, which is surprising because he only lives a few blocks away. You've seen him outside his house when you drive to school, but you've never stopped and asked if he wanted a ride. You've thought about it— you would wake up on fine mornings and think you should talk to Spencer about how life's been without you— but you never pull yourself to do it because it cracks your healing heart.