Fate's Return (Twisted Fate, Book 2)

Chapter Twenty-Six

"So, what do you think your dad is saying right now?" Suzie asked, sounding bored.

"My guess?" I shrugged, opening my eyes to see she'd flopped onto her back so that she stared up at the ceiling. "Probably nothing I want to see."

"Ew. In the kitchen?" She shuddered.

"Seriously? Get your mind out of the gutter. They are my parents."

She smiled. "How do you think they got you here?"

"Okay, really, really..." I shook my head. "Just stop. He's probably just hugging her and letting her cry or whatever. Then, when she's calm, they'll talk."

"That was kind of cool."

"Oh? Right, because I enjoyed watching my mother break down over me," I said. "I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

"That's not what I mean."

"No?" I raised one eyebrow in question.

She looked up at me and sighed. For a second, she seemed torn between having something to say and not wanting to say it. Then, as though she was choreographing a new routine for beginner dancers in slow motion, she slid her legs off the bed one at a time, stood, and began to pace.

I jumped from the chair to my bed without saying a word, finally feeling like I was home. Following her with my eyes was hypnotic. After all the drugs and tests, would it be rude to close my eyes? It wouldn't be the first time I fell asleep during one of our conversations, but obviously Suzie didn't like it. I doubted I was in the right shape of mind to deal with the verbal backlash.

"My parents would never care that much."

"That's not true." I'd seen her parents, spent time vacationing with them, and spent too many nights sleeping over during the years to believe anything else. If I was dating someone for two years, my dad wouldn't be setting an early curfew, he'd be telling me to be safe and leaving condoms everywhere.

"My parents notice me when somebody's around to notice them." She paused to look at me, and then kept pacing. "The way your mom was just now? I bet she wishes nobody had been there to see her."

"No, you're probably right about that."

"My mom would treat that as an Oscar performance and expect accolades."

"What?" I shook my head and rose to rest my weight on my elbows. "No, Suzie—"

"Last year, right before we started hanging out again, I fell from the top of the pyramid during practice and sprained my wrist. The nurse wouldn't let me go home or take anything for pain until someone signed me out, so I called my Dad."

"So? He came, right?"

She laughed. "Not exactly. He was in the middle of a sale." She rolled her eyes and shook her head, scoffing. "So he called my Mom to come and get me."

"So then what's the big deal?"

She shrugged and stared down at the floor by the wall next to my desk. "It took her an extra half hour to come for me because she had to let her pedicure dry."

Okay, so her dad was working, and her mom knew a sprained wrist wasn't life-threatening. I still didn't understand. My parents loved me and probably would have reacted the same way. Maybe not the pedicure part, but I knew Mrs. Whithall. She was like, Mrs. Clean, and putting shoes on a fresh pedicure? Messy. It didn't equate to her parents not caring, though.

"So, she gets to school and signs me out to take me home but tells Mrs. Stick-up-her-ass that she'll give me something after I see a doctor." She laughed, the sound hollow. "When we got outside, she turned to me and said that the next time I feel like hurting myself to gain her attention, it better be life or death seriousness, or I shouldn't call her away from her afternoon shows."