Chapter 18

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Owen showing up at the apartment door was not how I expected my Tuesday afternoon to go. Considering Mom's basically fucked him over, I would've guessed my apartment's turned into a "No Man's Land" for the rest of the club.

But Owen stands at the door and says something.

Which I don't hear, so I pull off my headphones and stop Eminem blasting in my ears. "What?"

He takes a step forward. He's still not in the apartment yet. "Your mom asked me to come...?"

"Moooom," I call, but she's already beside me.

Mom takes the door handle from me and sweeps open the thing. Like Owen didn't have enough space to walk in. "Mr. Bartlestein, thank you for coming."

Owen looks at me, then Mom, then back to me. "I, uh...it seemed impolite to, to reject your offer, ma'am." He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone. "I am a little confused, though, Mrs. Rivera. Why did you ask me over?"

She waves her hand at him. "Oh, so formal. We're all friends here."

I cringe.

She moves us to the couches and sits us both down before going into the kitchen.

"Why're you here?" I whisper.

Owen shrugs. "My stepdad gave me back my phone and told me to come over here after school. Your guess is as good as mine."

Mom comes back with some old chocolate chip cookies and lemonade. Which confuses me a lot because it's almost December and Owen's sweaters're now totally acceptable. "So, Owen," she says, like she's trying to impress him, "how was school today?"

We eye each other because we both don't know what's happening. "It was, uh...fine?"

She nods. Too much. With a look on her face that says either "Everything-You're-Saying-Is-Very-Interesting" or "This-Is-My-Pretend-Nodding". Like, focused, yet angry. "So you're probably wondering why I asked you to come here today." We don't say anything and she keeps going, "I asked you to come over, Mr. Bartlestein, to show my son that I am willing to offer an olive branch to you."

Now I'm just mad. I don't think she's really thought about phrasing. Which makes me madder.

Owen swallows and nods. "That's...very kind of you, ma'am. But you haven't done anything."

No shit.

Mom clasps her hands together. "Owen, my son's brought up how it's unkind to judge people based on one...characteristic, whether it be based in truth or not, or it is favorable or not."

Oh my God Mom stop.

EVEN FUCKING OWEN CRINGES A LITTLE.

"And I think that...it's a very wise thing to say. So I wanted to put whatever preconceptions behind us and start anew." She smiles, like she's accomplished something. "Is that all right?"

Owen glaring. Not because he's angry. Because he's just as confused as I am. "Sorry, did-did I do something?"

Mom shakes her head. "No, we're starting anew." She holds out her hand. "I'm Mrs. Rivera, Jackson's mom."

He takes it. And then looks at me like I'm a ghost and he doesn't believe this shit's happening to him. "I'm...Owen. I have math with your son, and I'm tutoring him." He finally turns to me and adds, "Oh, Jackson, I have your homework from school. I can help you with it if – "

I've already stood up. "We can work in my room." I take a glass of lemonade and the entire plate of cookies. "C'mon, Owen. I need the help."

"No kidding," he mutters, which makes me snort.

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