Catalyst

Chapter 4

Quinn was up at seven o'clock sharp, the next Saturday. Rachel hadn't so much as looked at her the entire week and Mr. Ryerson was being fired for inappropriate conduct. In her opinion, it was about time. Quinn dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt and her trusty white tennis shoes. She didn't look in the mirror, didn't lift her eyes any higher than she had to in the halls lest she catch her reflection in something. Her period still hadn't shown up. Her mother sat at the kitchen table with a small breakfast of toast, a mug of tea, and a single apple. The light was off in the room.

She wasn't looking at anything in particular until Quinn cleared her throat. Judy glanced at her clothes and narrowed her eyes, making her voice colder, "Would you please put on something more sensible? People will think we're raising some sort of bull dagger."

Quinn ignored her outwardly but inside her chest hurt at the term. There went any chance of her mother being her confidant about her thing with Man-Hands. But really, what was she supposed to say? "I like her and she gave me an orgasm in our auditorium, but we aren't together. I swear." That was much more likely to get her tossed out on her ass than anything else.

"Sure, mom," She replied. She didn't want to fight with her, not over this. They would have bigger issues in just a few weeks, if she decided to keep it. The teenager went up the stairs again and changed into a summer dress, fluttery around her legs, a pair of wedges, and her purse. She made sure her wallet was in there, and saw that it had fifty dollars in it. Judy must have put it in there last night, while she was asleep. When she came down again, her mother had cleaned up and left a small plate of eggs and toast with a cup of tea. She finished quickly then went upstairs to brush her teeth. She was scheduled for a dentist appointment in about a month and always cleaned her mouth more frequently around that time.

Her mother was sitting on the living room couch when she finished. Rather than reach for her keys, her mother handed her a key ring with two keys on it. One was the house key she'd thought she lost a few days ago and the other was thicker and clunky; a car key.

She made an embarrassingly choked sound and her mother smiled before saying, "Turn around."

She did. Her father was dressed for golf, but he stopped and kissed her forehead as she said her thanks. He replied, "For you to drive me to that Chastity Ball, okay? Don't get in a wreck."

Quinn hugged him tightly, smelling his aftershave and feeling his strong arms around her, wondering if when six months had passed, if he was still going to hold her like this. He let go first, handed her a crisp twenty, and she quickly headed outside the house to look at her new car. Well, if anyone thought a red, slightly rusty SUV was new.

"It's good for a few more years, until you come back from college," Her father called out.

She hugged him again, head pressed against his chest, and he gave her a wet kiss on her forehead before heading to his own car, a Mercedes-Benz. The blonde got in the car and adjusted the seat and rearview mirror before putting her seat belt on. She adjusted her seat again, just out of nerves, and then checked the side mirror closest to her before taking her right shoe off. Both of her parents drove that way, so she did as well. She turned the car on, felt the rumble and purr it made and grinned, big and wide. She could even feel her ears move. Her mother got in the car as she played with the radio, trying to find something other than the local station, which only played up-beat pop or pop-rock. Quinn turned to the oldies station as her mother snapped her seat belt on and placed her hands on her lap. She adjusted the volume so Otis Redding wasn't as loud.

"Quinnie, we need to leave," She said.

"Right, sorry," She murmured. Her mother hummed, which went up as she backed out the drive way. Quinn glanced at her, but Judy just gave a little, shaky smile. She drove to Gretchen's at twenty-five miles per hour. Every time she went any higher, her mother's fingers clenched onto the fabric of her dress and she said, "Aren't we moving a little fast?"