Because You're Different ✔

28. Laptop

June

Dad was doing better. He'd gone back to work, a little too soon if you asked me, but he said he couldn't afford to stay home any longer and that I shouldn't worry. No te preocupes, nena, estoy bien. Yeah, dad, I'm sorry, but you collapsed in front of my eyes, turning into an old man overnight. How was I supposed to not be concerned about him?

When I came home from school, the house was as empty like it'd been before his heart attack, making me go to Sam's more frequently again. Still, I made a point of being there when dad was as well, so I could at least make sure he was able to rest after a long day. It was tiring; I was taking multiple AP classes and tutoring some freshmen, and because of that and dad's late-night shifts, sometimes I barely got any sleep.

Luckily, I had Hayley to pull me through. She never asked any questions, just filled me in on what I'd missed that time I was late for first period because my alarm failed to wake me, and let me shoot pictures of her notes when I'd been too worn out to take them myself. Thank god for that girl; her notes were a lot more detailed and extensive than Sam's confusing scribbles. Luckily, the school had also given me permission to use a laptop in class, and oh, did I wish I'd requested it earlier. It made all the difference for my energy level.

I was still working on my pirate story, but only when no one was around — Sam had caught me typing away on my laptop and had been trying to find out what my book was about ever since. He could never read it, of course. I'd rather only eat Valentina's cooking the rest of my life than having Sam know I was in love with his brother. I mean, even he would be able to deduct that there was an uncanny resemblance between my handsome captain named Jonathan and Nathan. It'd be a catastrophe.

Right now, I was stuck with my storyline, wondering if I should let my main character's best mate drown or not. On the one hand, it'd be unexpected and realistic, on the other hand, I loved that boy, he was too sweet... How could I kill him? Damn, J.K., how had you done it? Murder so many great people, even if it was only on paper? I sighed deeply, glaring at the half-empty page. My worst enemy.

"Good morning, mija," mom said, as she came into the kitchen wearing her nightgown. Every time I saw her, I was reminded of her crouched in the chair in the hospital. There were large circles under her once so lively eyes, and her hair was starting to turn gray at the roots. I'd been making an effort to be sweet to her, to be grateful, but I seemed to be failing every day.

First, the phone — then, the groceries Nathan had bought us this summer — not to mention she'd discovered he knew a great number of abuela's recipes, and she wasn't happy about it. No matter what I did, I always seemed to be doing something wrong.

"Morning, mom. I made breakfast. You want me to warm something up for you?" I smiled at her, attempting to look glad about her being here, about her being free for the day, while in reality, I knew it was going to be exhausting.

She shook her head. "I'll warm it up myself, thank you." As she walked around the table, I quickly closed the laptop — there was no way my mom was going to read my book either.

The action made her stop in her tracks, slowly turning her head towards me. Her cheeks were bony, and her movements lank. "Are you hiding something from me?" she said, mouth pinched.

Fuck. I'd done it again. "No," I said, but she was the only person I'd never been able to fool. Panic was starting to bubble in my stomach, and I gripped both my arms to keep myself still. "I'm just... writing a story."

"About what?"

I shrugged, trying not to look away unsuccessfully. My lips strained, and my shoulders tensed. "Nothing. Just unimportant teenage stuff."

She stared at me, eyes slightly narrowed. Hopefully, dad was going to come down soon; he'd be able to make her smile, he always was. "Ah, I see. You've got things your mother doesn't need to know about now." Something about her tone was weird, flat and forced, and the panic started to spread. She turned away from me, sluggishly turning on the gas for the stove.

I didn't know what to do, how to fix this — let her read it, after all? Then, she spun around, gazing down at me with eyes that I recognized, eyes full of life, and for a moment, I was relieved. "What about you and me go shopping today, corazoncito? You desperately need new jeans."

She knew.

Redness rose to my cheeks, and now, I really couldn't face her anymore. I dug my nails into my arms, trying not to lose control over my motions. I'd been careful, I thought — it'd been four months since Charlotte had bought me my new clothes, and in those four months, I made sure to always check what I was wearing when I would see my parents, especially after finding out about the health insurance.

But I must've messed up. I must've forgotten to change my sneakers, or have thrown a pair of my new underwear in the laundry basket. Or maybe, she'd seen my Instagram — damn Hayley and damn her making me an account.

"I'm sorry, mom," I said, my voice contorted from the pain blocking my throat. "I just — I just didn't want to hurt you and dad."

Too late, her pursed lips said. "I don't like that you keep secrets from me now. You've changed."

I had. I used to tell her everything, from the boys I liked to my fantasies about being a witch and going to Hogwarts, showing her all of my ballet dances and princess drawings, complaining about my rough school days and abuela making me do the dishes...

And here we were. I hadn't told her about Nathan. I hadn't told her about my pirate story. I hadn't shown her my new jeans and shirts. If I had a shitty experience, Matt Granton startling me or me dropping a ketchup bottle, it was Nathan, Sam, or Hayley who had to endure my whining.

Never mom anymore.

"You and dad kept secrets from me," I said, because I didn't know what to do.

"To protect you."

"I was trying to do the same."

It was the truth. Maybe it was a bad way of going about it, but it was the truth. I wanted these clothes; I wanted the feeling that came with them, the confidence, me pretty and sexy. I didn't want to go without it anymore.

At the same time, I wished they could've come from mom and dad. That they could've felt the same pride, felt like they'd done something big to make me happy.

She turned away from me again, her back to me as a silent statement. The pan hissed; apparently, she added something to it, zealously shoving it around with a spatula. "Seems like we both failed."

My stomach churned, and suddenly, I was nauseous, but I didn't know if it was the guilt doing it to me or the bacon I didn't eat anymore after becoming a vegetarian a few weeks back. For once, I was at a loss for words.

I didn't know how long I sat there before dad joined us, grinning joyfully at the both of us, giving her a kiss and me a hug.

She still smiled for him.

What did I have to do to make her smile for me again too?