The Perfect Star by Rob Buyea

Author:Rob Buyea
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2019-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

I was looking forward to sleeping in my own bed. I was looking forward to my blankets and pillows, my slippers and shower, Mom’s cooking, and my personal toilet. I’d had a good time at camp, but I’d roughed it long enough. It’s funny how you end up missing the simple things in life when you’re without them for a while.

Most of all, I’d missed Mom. We had plans for a nice dinner and a movie, but things changed after I got into the house. I dropped my stuff by the door and plopped onto the couch.

“Good to be home?” Mom asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“So how was it?” she asked, sitting next to me.

I sat up, and that was when I spotted the flowers perched in our bay window. You couldn’t miss them. It was a huge bouquet in a brand-new vase.

“Where’d you get those?” I asked.

“Oh, from Jacob,” Mom said. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

“He sent you flowers?”

She hesitated. “Actually, no. He brought them to me.”

“Brought them to you? You mean, like, in person?”

“Yes. He came to visit while you were at camp.”

“Came to visit? Did he stay here?”

Mom nodded.

“Where did he sleep?”

“Randi, I don’t think that is any of your business.”

That was all the answer I needed. I wasn’t a little kid anymore. I knew how these things worked.

“Do you love him?”

She didn’t answer, again telling me all I needed to know. This was beyond serious. We were talking potentially life changing. I stared at the floor. I wanted to be happy for Mom, but I was scared. The next step would be selling our house and moving so that Mom could be with Jacob. I couldn’t let that happen.

“It scares me, too,” Mom said.

Not the same, I thought.

“I don’t want to do something stupid and get hurt…or see you get hurt,” she said.

“Then take it slow,” I warned. “I don’t trust him.”

That wasn’t true, but fear can make you do terrible things. Mom looked hurt by my words, and that sent a shot of pain through my body worse than when I’d torn my ACL. I got up and went to my room. I didn’t like what I’d done, but what choice did I have?

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