Page 32 of Like You Know
“OK, murder fairy. Let’s tone down the violent tendencies, shall we?” I patted her on the arm.
“He’s going to regret ever coming to Fulton Academy. There might only be a few weeks left in the year, but that’s plenty of time to make his life hell.” Donna slurped the last dregs of her smoothie aggressively, probably already plotting Jet’s demise in detail.
“Donna, stand down.” I gave her a firm look, then threw the same look at the other two. “Everyone stand down. Please. It’s not like we were together and he cheated or something. He never made me any promises. We haven’t even fucking kissed. He just doesn’t like me. It might hurt, but it’s not a crime.”
“It should be. You’re fucking fabulous,” Mena grumbled.
“Fine. No absolute destruction. But only because you asked,” Donna conceded.
“All right, I gotta get some more work done before I head to Easton’s for dinner.” Harlow got to her feet, and we followed suit. It didn’t escape my notice that she hadn’t agreed not to look into Jet on the dark web or whatever, but there was no arguing with her when she got a digital mission in her head.
We chatted about her new job on the way out. She was really enjoying the flexible hours and doing something she was genuinely good at. After years of feeling like a failure at school and life, she seemed happy, and that made me happy.
“Let’s take a photo!” Mena whipped her phone out, and the three of them shoved me into the middle and hugged the breath out of me. “Everyone say, ‘Amaya is a bad bitch’!”
“Amaya is a bad bitch!” the three of them chanted as I laughed and Mena snapped multiple pictures. She posted one with the same caption and #besties. She’d caught me mid-laugh with my friends’ love surrounding me, and I made a mental note to get it printed and framed.
When I got home, the house was empty. Not for the first time, I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
I headed to the fridge for a snack and paused with my hand on the handle. There was a thick piece of paper with silver embellishments stuck to the door with a magnet. The wordBestLyfcaught my attention, and I forgot all about the snack as I snatched the paper off the fridge.
In raised cursive script, the invitation was addressed to my mom. Raine Clayton was throwing a fundraiser, sponsored by BestLyf, at her private residence. I didn’t even read what cause they were raising funds for or any of the other details on the invite. As soon as I saw my mom’s name in the same vicinity as Raine Clayton’s, I started to hyperventilate.
CHAPTERELEVEN
I didn’t wantmy mother anywhere near Raine fucking Clayton or anything remotely related to BestLyf. Why was she even invited to this party? What was the point of it?
I tried calling her several times, but she didn’t answer. It wasn’t unusual for her, but it was extra irritating when I actually wanted to talk to her.
The worst thing was Iknewthis would turn into a fight. I’d just vowed to try to talk to my mom calmly and rationally, like an adult, but there was no way that “hey, don’t go to this party, because I can’t tell you why, but you have to promise not to go” wouldn’t turn into a screaming match.
After pacing the kitchen for a good twenty minutes, I decided to go for a run. Hopefully she’d be home by the time I got back and I’d be calmer from the endorphins.
I changed into running gear, put my earbuds in, and jogged up our ridiculous driveway. Barely half a mile in, I started to get cramps. I ran all the time, I was fit, and these were definitely not the kind of cramps one got from too much cardio.
Stopping with my hands on my hips, I glared at my uterus. “Really? Now?”
As if she were answering me with attitude, I felt that telltale sensation of the first bit of blood leaking out and stiffened, squeezing my thighs together.
Muttering under my breath, I made my way home. Even after I showered, took a couple of Advil, and accepted that the universe hated me for some reason, Mom was still not home.
I tried her phone one more time, then grudgingly gave in and called Cal. Mom had put his number in my phone weeks ago before I could snatch it back, for “emergencies.”
He picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Cal, it’s Amaya. Is Mom with you? Do you know when she’ll be home?”
“Not right this second. Is everything OK?”
“Yeah, fine. Do you know where she is?”
“We’re both in the city. She’s having drinks with friends while I take care of some work matters. We were planning to spend the night here. Do you need us to come home?”
I hesitated. “No, that’s OK. I’ll talk to her when you get back.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” The party wasn’t for a few weeks yet. I had time to talk her out of it.