In the Band by Haus Jean

Author:Haus, Jean [Haus, Jean]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-10-18T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

I’m slightly nervous to go to Calculus on Monday after Romeo’s apology and his knowledge about my mother. Luckily, Kendra stayed off Romeo topics during lunch so her chatter was annoying as standard, but didn’t reach nails on chalkboard level. I feel like a tool eating with her every Monday, but I don’t want to eat alone, and although I could just grab something quick and head to a hall couch or outside, Kendra would be mortified to eat alone. So to the cafeteria I go and let our grating friendship escalate.

Early to class as usual I’m reviewing last week’s notes as Romeo strolls in the half empty room. Dressed in a gray t-shirt with a darker gray button up flannel open over it, he looks like his normal dark and sexy self. Since I took Jamie to school today, I whipped my hair in a quick ponytail, brushed on a bit of mascara, and threw on the first pair of jeans and sweat shirt my fingers found in the closet. I probably don’t even reach my normal cute.

Romeo leans over after setting out his books. “How’s you mom?”

“Better,” I say, flicking the pages of my notebook. When I meet his concerned gaze, I add in a hushed tone, “She says it was mistake. She took some sleeping pills but doesn’t remember how many.” Each time I think about her explanation, it grows conviction. But sharing it, has my belief skyrocketing. My mother did not try to kill herself.

Romeo’s dark eyes search mine. “You believe her?”

I rear back and snap, “Of course.”

“Hey,” he says in response to my angry tone and leans closer. “You’re taking my question the wrong way. I meant as her daughter you’d be able to judge if she was concealing anything.”

My anger deflates. “The divorce has been really hard for her but she’d never do that to my sister or me.”

“Sounds like she needs help coping with the divorce.”

I can’t help a sigh from escaping, but I don’t feel guilty revealing anything about my mother to Romeo since he was part of the drama that went down on Saturday night. “She thinks counseling is too expensive.”

“A price should never be put on a person’s mental health.” He reaches for his notebook and scrawls across a clean sheet of paper. “Here,” he says after ripping it out. “They have a variety of therapists and offer services with a sliding scale, even free to some.”

There’s a phone number on the paper and over it the heading, ‘Child and Family Services.’ “Thanks,” I say, folding it then stuffing it into my pocket. I’m grateful for the information, but I’m wondering how he knows so much about the place. And the fact that he has the number memorized must mean something. Though I want to ask him about it, I’m aware of how invading that question would be.

“So you’re not quitting?”

I shake my head. Playing drums keeps me sane.

He gives me a half smile. “Good.”

Suddenly the girl—I think her

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