The One That I Want by Jennifer Echols

Author:Jennifer Echols
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Humorous Stories, Emotions & Feelings, Social Issues, Love & Romance
ISBN: 9781442452367
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2011-12-05T16:00:00+00:00

10

As I stomped across the yard, I realized I shouldn’t have slammed Max’s door. My mother might have heard it. She might be watching me out a window now. She would know from the way I walked that I was angry. She would hear that anger again if I slammed the front door behind me. Then we’d have to talk about what had happened.

I’d thought I longed to have the chat with her that she kept promising me. But the prospect of talking to her about something this real made me cringe. I didn’t want her to know I had a complicated relationship with Max. Then I would have a more complicated relationship with her. Max was right, and that made me even madder at him.

I closed the front door, careful to shut it the way I normally did, which I probably got completely wrong now that I was thinking so hard about it.

Then I edged to the window to peek out at the driveway. I half expected—or half hoped—Max would still be parked there, staring mournfully at my house, contemplating running after me and ringing the (oh God) gong doorbell to tell me he was sorry. But he was already backing into the street, probably not even thinking about my prissy little fit.

I watched him until his taillights disappeared around the corner.

In the kitchen, I peered into the refrigerator, then the freezer, then the refrigerator again, looking for . . . something. I asked myself whether I was hungry or just wanted something to eat. The answer was neither. I wanted Max to come back. I wanted to erase what I had said, and what he had said, and go back to a time before I saw myself so clearly. I didn’t like what I saw.

I climbed the stairs. My mom was in her office. Really I thought of it as Dad’s office, though it had been Mom’s for the past six years. She hadn’t redecorated after Dad left. The walls were still painted a manly forest green and lined with towering dark wood cabinets. She seemed out of place in Dad’s leather office chair, sitting behind his massive wooden desk and pecking at the computer. A bowl and a spoon sat next to the keyboard. Without looking, I knew the bowl had held cobbler and ice cream, and that it was empty.

When I stood in the doorway, she didn’t glance up from hunting and pecking. My high school made everybody take typing now, but she had missed out on that. And apparently, working for a few years as a secretary before marrying my dad had not taught her any keyboarding skills. Biting her lip, she was really intent on finding that G or whatever.

“Hi, Mom,” I finally said. “I’m back.”

“Oh, hey, sweetie.” She pecked another letter before she looked up. Her brow furrowed. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you have fun on your date with Max?”

“Sure,” I lied. Wait. “Carter. My date with Carter.”

“That’s what I said.” She went back to typing.

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