Page 72 of Crash into me
I bump shoulders with Brett. “What’s going on?” I nudge my head towards Warren, who’s in a heated discussion on the phone.
“Not sure.” He shrugs. “I don’t know what the conversation is about, but I know it’s his dad.”
“Oh,” I breathe.
Warren hangs up, walking over to us. “That fucking asshole,” he sneers.
“What happened?” Brett asks.
“The new wing expansion reveal is tomorrow night.” A tear forms in his usually unreadable eyes. I already know my parents will be there. The botched charity event they held that night was all for show just to build a fancy new section at Warren’s parents’ country club. “They said I could come back.”
His eyes pan to Brett.
“As long as we break up.”
Brett laughs. “Ridiculous.”
“Yup,” Warren agrees. “Best part is, when I told him no, he said I’m banned from the property and he’s taking my name off his will.”
An idea pops into my head, fueled by adrenaline and anger. “So, they’ll be having some posh reveal there tomorrow?” I shrug, “Let’s go decorate it for him.” I waggle my brows mischievously.
Foster chimes in, rubbing his hands together, “I’ve always wanted to go to a country club.”
A mischievous glint twinkles in Warren’s eyes. “Good idea.”
* * *
We swung by the house,dropped off our bikes, and grabbed Foster’s car. I’ve always loved riding with him in the classic black Chevelle. The hum of the roaring engine, the way I can sit right beside him instead of behind like on the bike.
The fall wind blows through the car, crisp and refreshing as we follow behind Brett’s silver Jeep. I would worry about getting caught, but it’s so late that no one’s around.
We pull up to the empty building, ready to go through with our plans. “I don’t want the security system to go off. I’m sure they changed the locks anyways.” He opens the trunk, brimming with toilet paper. “We’re decorating the entrance.” He smiles.
Brett flips on the radio, opening all his doors to let the music flow. Brett throws the ceremonial first roll over the banisters, while me and Foster go for the trees.
I throw the whole thing, and Foster laughs at me as it hits the grass with a thud. “I have to teach you how to be a misfit,” he tells me, peeling open the end of the paper and unraveling it a little. He tosses it over the branch, and a stream of white paper cascades the other side.
We get into a rhythm, covering each perfectly trimmed bush and towering tree.
We’re so lost in thought, so in the moment of helping a friend feel better, that we don’t even notice the silver Lexus pulling in behind Brett’s Jeep.
Warren’s mom, Laurene, scares the shit out of me as I turn to grab more toilet paper. She plants her hands on her hips when I scream at her surprising presence.
Warren turns to the sound of my yelp, and when he sees his mom, his shoulders slump. He’s standing in front of his masterpiece; every beam and door handle is mummified with toilet paper.
“I saw you on the cameras.” She frowns. “I don’t know where I went wrong.” She shakes her head, gesturing to Brett’s trunk.
Brett walks up to her, all striking looks and his all-American smile beaming. “Mrs. Hollingsworth, we love each other,” he says, trying to reason with her. “You didn’t go wrong.”
She sends Brett a crooked smile. “I’m not upset about that, dear. I’m curious why all of you came here with toilet paper that can be picked up in thirty minutes.” She pops her trunk, and we all gather around. It’s filled to the brim with sparkling glitter and cartons of eggs.
Warren looks like he’s going to collapse, and he brings his mom in for a hug. “He’ll come around,” she tries to soothe him, but her glare speaks volumes. She was a woman dangling on the edge of a knife, and her husband’s denial of their only son broke the tip she was standing on.
“I don’t care if he does. I have you again.” He breathes for the first time in what looks like weeks.
She nods against his shoulder, agreeing with him. “You never lost me.” She peers up at him. “I just couldn’t find you. When he cut off your phone, I was a nervous wreck, and I came to the school a few times looking for you.”
Me, Foster, and Brett all empty her trunk onto the sidewalk. She pulls away to talk to us after finishing a private conversation with her son. “I also disabled the security cameras.” She grins, waving her manicured nails. “Have fun, kids.”