Page 43 of Like You Know
“Mom.” I set the remainder of my burrito down and faced her, forcing myself to be calm. There was no way she’d forgotten. Again.No way. “It was my party. I threw it.”
“You did?” Her brows furrowed slightly, but she still smiled at me in curiosity. “Where? Why not do it here? There’s plenty of room.”
“Why were you coming to wake me up? Or asking what I was up to today?” Un-fucking-believable.
She shrugged. “Just have nothing much on today. Cal and I are planning to go to lunch, so I was going to ask if you wanted to join us. Maybe we could do some shopping after.”
“What day is it?” I got to my feet even though I was exhausted—spent right down to my bones. I just couldn’t be sitting when she admitted it. I needed to be standing.
“Uh ... Sunday? What’s gotten into you?” She looked very confused now, and she got to her feet too, crossing her arms over her chest.
“What is today?” I gritted out, digging my nails into the palms of my hands. “The date.”
The volume of my voice startled Harlow awake, but I was hardly aware of my friends—awkwardly watching this shit show with front-row seats.
“I don’t know, Amaya. What ...” She huffed. “Like, May ...”
“May eleventh.” Cal appeared next to her, inserting himself into the situation, as usual. Apparently he’d finished with his call.
“Right. May eleventh.” Mom nodded and leaned into him. It was almost comical seeing her expression change as the lightbulb went off in her brain. Her shoulders stiffened, and she looked at me, horrified. At least she had the courtesy to feel embarrassed.
“And why might this date be important to me?” I asked with sarcastic pleasantness, grinding my molars.
“Oh, Amaya.” Mom’s eyes got watery. “It’s ... your ...”
“It’s my fucking birthday!” I yelled into her face, perversely satisfied when she flinched. “I am your only child. You are my only parent. And you’ve forgotten my birthday for the third year in a row. What the fuck kind of mother are you?”
“I’m sorry. My sweet girl, I am so—”
“Oh, shut up!” I cut her off. “I don’t believe you.”
Cal rubbed her back soothingly, but they both looked remorseful, or something like it.
“I’m sorry too,” he said. “I didn’t know it was today, but I should’ve made an effort. We’ll do something special—”
“Fuck off, Cal!” I cut him off too. “No one asked you. You’re not my father and you never will be. Because he’s gone. The only good parent I ever had is fucking dead, and I’m stuck withyou.” I pointed at my mother with a scowl. “I wish it was you who’d died and not him.”
My mother gasped and her tears spilled over. Cal looked shocked.
I didn’t care. I turned away from them all and rushed up to my room, locked the door, and dived back under the covers. Maybe if I just slept some more, I’d wake up and realize this had all been some horrible nightmare.
Donna had the only other key to my room. She must’ve walked home to get it, because it was some time—and several rounds of knocking and calling through the door from both my friends and my mother—before I heard the door open.
My girls climbed into bed with me and just held me while I cried.
Worst birthday ever.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
The Fulton Academyparking lot was empty, the hot afternoon sun baking the concrete under our feet. Trevor, the security guard, had been happy to take the three neatly folded hundred-dollar bills to let us in on a Saturday. He hovered around the front doors, making sure we stayed in the parking lot as agreed, but other than that, Jet and I were alone.
“Oh my god, it’s so heavy.” I tensed all my muscles, trying to stay upright. My hands ached from how hard I gripped the handlebars.
“It’s OK, just find your balance. I got you, beautiful,” Jet encouraged me.
Once I was sure I wouldn’t face-plant and take his motorbike with me, I nodded.
It had been a week since my birthday. A whole week of feeling hurt and avoiding my mother. I’d spent this morning studying with the girls, but then the sisters had some tennis thing to get to and Mena had a shift at the diner, so I’d called my ... er ... Jet. I’d called Jet.