Page 145 of Burning Embers
“Mom…” I try not to let my embarrassment seep into my tone.
I hate the fact that Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Remington are here, watching the exchange. What must they think of me? Of her?
“We need to go. They’re here. They found you.” Mom trembles like a leaf in the wind.
With an almost blistering speed, she lunges forward and grabs my wrist. Her grip is a manacle around me.
The bell rings overhead, and I inwardly curse as the halls begin to fill with students. Heat fills my cheeks.
“Mom, let’s go into the office?—”
She gives my arm a shake. “They’re going to take you from me, baby boy. They’re going to hurt you. Hurt me. We need to go. We need to run. We need to?—”
Mom stops talking abruptly, and her eyes zero in on something just over my shoulder.
No, not something.
Someone.
Fuck. No.
Nononononono.
“Ansel?” Izzy asks, concern evident in her voice. “Are you all right?”
She moves to stand beside me, and my mother’s eyes home in on her like two heat-seeking missiles. And, to my absolute horror, they harden and frost over, dripping with pure malice.
“You,” my mother hisses, releasing me. She takes a lumbering step towards Izzy and jabs a bony finger at the other girl’s chest. “It’s your fault! You stupid bitch.”
She lifts her hand, and I’m too slow to do anything, my feet glued to the ground.
Just before her palm can connect with Izzy’s cheek, Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Remington are there, stopping her. Remington grabs her wrist, his grip surprisingly gentle despite his thunderous expression, and Montgomery shoulders his way between the two women. He gives Izzy a cautious once-over, as if ensuring she’s all right, before focusing on my mother.
Shame threatens to swallow me whole.
“Mrs. Harthorne, I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to leave.” Montgomery’s voice is steady, though his eyes are hard. Icy.
He moves to stand protectively in front of Izzy with his arms crossed over his chest.
“This bitch killed my husband, and she’s going to get my son killed too!” Mom screams, spittle flying from her mouth.
Most of the students have stopped now, and there’s a large crowd surrounding the five of us.
I want the ground to open up beneath me.
I’ve never been ashamed of my mother before, knowing that her mood swings stem from mental illness, but just then…I hate her.
I fucking despise her.
I can’t meet anyone’s gaze.
“I’ll take her home,” I tell Montgomery quietly, already grabbing my mom’s arm to drag her away.
She fights me, her heels digging into the linoleum tiles, and screams over her shoulder, “Stay away from my son!”
“Mom,” I whisper-hiss, quickening my pace, heat filling my cheeks, embarrassment inflating me like a balloon.
I want to tell Izzy I’m sorry, but that word seems too inconsequential. Besides, I doubt she’ll accept my apology.