Sea Change by Aimee Friedman

Author:Aimee Friedman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.

Ten

SECRETS

The Mariner stood out pale and grand against the darkness—a port in the literal storm. Hurrying through the rain, soaked to the bone, I had but two humble prayers: that the front door would be unlocked, and that Mom would either be on the phone or asleep, allowing me to sneak upstairs.

I climbed the porch steps, and as the rain battered against the life ring wreath, I pushed at the door. It gave easily under my hand, and I felt a rush of relief.

Unfortunately, Mom was standing in the middle of the entrance hall.

“Where were you?” she asked, her eyes flinty.

She hadn’t changed out of her pretty pink dress, which contrasted with her furious countenance. Her hair was damp and she wore muddy flip-flops; she must have gone out to look for me. And the house smelled of burnt rice; she must have made dinner for us. Guilt flooded me.

I removed my soggy hood, listening to the rainwater drip off my body and onto the floor. I couldn’t begin to imagine what kind of a wreck I looked like.

“With CeeCee.” The lie leapt into my mouth.

Mom raised her eyebrows. “Really? That’s funny. I just spoke to Delilah, and she told me that CeeCee had a young gentleman by the name of Bobby visiting them tonight. Somehow she failed to mention that you were there, too.”

Oh, I thought, swallowing. This is what getting in trouble feels like.

“And don’t try telling me you were with T.J.,” Mom added, and I flinched automatically at his name; he’d been the last person on my mind tonight. “I called his father as well.”

I’m sure you did, I thought, scowling.

“I was walking on the beach,” I replied at last, speaking quickly and studying the staircase behind Mom’s shoulder. “It started to rain, so I ended up in Fisherman’s Village.” I wondered, my heart thudding, if there was a hickey on my neck, or some other sign on me that would reveal the truth.

“Alone?” Mom pressed, narrowing her eyes at me.

When Wade was in high school and I was in middle school, he’d sworn to me that Mom was psychic; she’d always seemed to know with whom he was out breaking his curfew. I’d dismissed his theory then, but now the notion that our mother was a mind reader didn’t seem too far-fetched.

“Yeah, alone,” I lied again. I was becoming quite adept at it.

“Where did you get that sweatshirt?” Mom asked, lifting her chin.

Right.

My gut clenched.

“I bought it,” I replied. Was this a new talent?

Mom sighed and began to pace the narrow hallway. “I know, I know,” she said, shaking her head. She seemed to be speaking to herself. “It’s natural for every kid to go through a rebellious phase. Your brother’s seemed to last a lifetime. But somehow I always thought you’d bypass yours.”

“I’m not rebelling!” I cried, forcing myself not to recall my conversation with Leo. I unzipped his hoodie and flung it onto the claw-footed chair in the corner.

“No?” Mom spun around to face me.

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