Saving Sawyer | ✓

Chapter 17 | What Goes Around Comes Back Around

Chapter 17 | What Goes Around Comes Back Around

“I need happy, I need romantic, I need love and I need it from you.” ― Valentine’s Day

“Sawyer, wake up,” My mom demands early Monday morning.

“No,” I groan, rolling away from her and pulling my cover over my head.

“You have to go to school,” She reminds me.

“But I don’t wanna go to school,” I complain.

“Well, you’ve been out for two whole weeks—it’s time to go back,” My mom explains, prying my cover away from me.

“Why do you hate me?” I ask her with a tired sigh, rolling back over in my bed and opening my eyes, glaring up at her.

“I thought we discussed this already? I do not hate you—I love you very much but you need to go to school,” She states.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I might be coming down with mono?” I query hopefully, not feeling like moving.

“No, Sawyer, I wouldn’t,” My mom assures me. “It’s already 8 o’clock, so get up and get dressed—your dad is taking you to school.”

“Wait, what?” I shriek, my eyes widening a little bit as I sit up in my bed, looking up at my mom. “What did you just say?” I ask her.

“I said, ‘your dad is taking you to school’, why?” She wonders, giving me a confused look.

“There’s nothing wrong with my car though,” I assure her. “Tom doesn’t need to take me.”

“Tom was drinking last night, apparently, and when he came home, he ran into the back of it,” My mom explains and my eyes widen as I prepare to fly off the handle. “Before you get angry,” She continues, gauging my expression. “It isn’t that bad—there’s a dent and your left taillight is out,” She states.

“What even do you mean ‘isn’t that bad’, that is bad,” I wail with a loud and very frustrated groan. My car is my baby and Tom has basically murdered it.

Then again, it’s not like murder is anything new to him, seeing as how he did kill a man six years ago.

“Which is why he’s taking you to school. He’s taking it up to the auto shop in a few hours and it’ll be as good as new by the time you get out of school.”

“Well, can’t you just take me to school instead?” I plead. “Or Beckett? I don’t want to ride with Tom.”

“You know, it really hurts his feelings, the fact that you call him ‘Tom’ instead of ‘dad’,” She tells me.

“Well, I don’t really care about his feelings,” I bluntly inform her.

“Well, I have to go to work and Beckett has class,” She explains.

“Then I can just stay at home,” I suggest. “Surely, missing one day of school won’t hurt anything.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t,” My mother agrees. “But you don’t need to miss any days. So, get dressed.”

“Fine,” I sigh loudly, running my fingers through my messy hair.

“Thank you,” She replies with a grateful sigh. “I’ll see you later this evening,” She adds before turning and padding across my carpeted floor in her heels.

“Wait, can I ask you a question?” I ask her then.

“Yes but make it speedy because I have to go.”