The Boyfriend Project

Chapter 19

The rest of the day was uneventful and much needed. I didn't know why lunch had suddenly become the center of attention, but it needed to stop. I was tired of being a tug-of-war between two guys who had no interest in me whatsoever. One was harassing me out of spite because I broke up with him. After all, I caught him kissing another girl. The other one I begged to help me get rid of the other one even though he liked another girl. So, this mess was kinda my fault in a way. Now, I had to figure out how to fix the problem. 

Sam was waiting by the car when I walked out of the school. She was leaning against the car, looking down at her phone, her fingers tapping away on the screen. 

"I heard Dylan came to your rescue today during lunch," she said, turning to open the passenger door. 

"What? Who told you that?" I asked, looking over the roof of the car. 

"It's all over the school. My sister has guys fighting over her. Nice!" She smiled and then slid down into the passenger seat. 

I'm glad someone was amused with the drama that had encompassed my life lately. Finally, I opened the door and drove us home, where a casserole would be in the oven for us later. We arrived home to find Mom putting a casserole in the refrigerator for me to cook later. She asked how our days were real quick before running upstairs to get ready for Dad's business dinner. I've often wondered if she truly pays attention to anything we say to her about our days while she's trying to get ready for business dinners with Dad. Then again, I probably wouldn't like the answer to the question. 

"Do we have to eat the casserole for dinner?" Sam asked, looking in the direction of the stairs. 

"No. I'm tired of casseroles all the time. We can go out to eat or cook something." 

"Let's cook something." She smiled. "How about spaghetti?" 

"That sounds pretty good. After they leave, we will head to the store to get the stuff." 

"Get stuff for what?" Mom asked, walking into the kitchen.

"We are going to cook spaghetti tonight instead of the casserole," I said, picking up my book bag. 

"I prepared the casserole, though." Mom said, motioning to the refrigerator. 

"Then, why don't you and Dad stay home and eat it!" I headed for the stairs. 

"Chelsi!" Mom yelled. "Get your ass back in here! Now!" 

"What?" I turned around. 

"Don't use that tone with me."

"You two are never here. I'm sorry, but we are sick to death of casseroles every night. You don't eat them, so why should we be forced to eat them every single night?" I pressed my lips together.

She sighed, her expression softening. "You're right. You have every right to be upset with us. Here's some money for groceries for the spaghetti." She handed me sixty dollars. 

"Thanks." I took the money, then turned and headed up to my room. I wasn't in the mood to listen to her excuses for being gone all the time. She didn't have to go with Dad all the time to his dinners. I closed the door behind me, tossed the book bag down the floor next to my desk, and flopped on my bed. I lay there for a few minutes, debating if I wanted to take a quick nap or not, when my phone chimed. I forced myself up off my comfortable bed and grabbed my phone out of my bookbag to see a text from Blakely. 

I invited her for dinner if she could come over later, and I would explain everything then. She texted me back within seconds, telling me she was able to come over for dinner and that I better tell her what happened at lunch today while she was over at the salad bar. I laid my phone down on the bed beside me, rolled over, and closed my eyes.