and it was something that was hard for her to admit, especially since Stormyâs dad was still on the scene for birthdays and holidays. The truth was she had no idea where her father was, so she imagined him still living in New York, where sheâd last seen him.
âSo did you party?â Mason repeated.
Me, party? Yeah, right! My mom partied while I worked a double to save for a new phone. Then I sat holed up in the house on some fake punishment. âYeah, actually I did. Nothing big though. It was a get-together for my aunt. You know, the one I told you about whoâs a big shot at the network. Well, she just got promoted, and now sheâs an even bigger big shot. Sheâs got New York on lock.â
Mason nodded, then slowed his pace as Charlyâs house came into view. âThatâs cool, Charly. Real cool. Itâs nice to finally have a friend I can chop it up with. Ya know, another city person who can relate. Somebody who gets where Iâm from. Not too many people around here can keep up with my Brooklyn pace,â he said, referring to the almost-dead town they lived in. Their tiny city was okay for older people, but teens had it bad. They lived in a nine-mile-square radius with only about twenty-five thousand other people. There was only one public high school and one emergency room, which equated to too small and everybody knowing everyone else and their business. Nothing was sacred in Belvidere, Illinois.
Charly took her book bag from Mason. âTrust me, I know. They canât keep up with my Chi-Town pace either. Iâm getting out of here ASAP.â
He walked her to her door. âSpeaking of ASAP. You still gonna be able to come through with helping me with my English paper this week? I have to hand it in right after break, so Iâd really like to get it finished as soon as possible. Donât wanna be off from school for a week and have to work.â He shrugged. âBut I know youâre pressed with school and getting an A on the math assignment. Plus, with flying back and forth to New York to check your pops, and trying to work at the pet salon, I know youâre busy. But I really need you, Charly,â he paused, throwing her a sexy grin that made her insides melt. âI donât even know what a thesis statement is, let alone where one goes in an essay.â
Charly smiled, then purposefully bit her tongue to prevent herself from lying again. Sheâd forgotten when Masonâs paper was due. An essay she would be no better at writing than he would. She sucked in English, but couldnât pass up the opportunity to be close to him. âI gotta work tonight and pretty much all week,â she said. She was finally kinda sorta truthful. She did have to work. Now that she was sixteen, and had snatched up a job at a local greasy spoonâand, hopefully, the pet salon sheâd told him she had applied atâit was up to her to make sure that the electric and cable bills were paid, plus she had to pay for her own clothing. âWeâve been very busy at work, for some reason.â
âOkay.â Mason grimaced, then looked past her, apparently deep in thought. He rubbed his chin. âI donât know what Iâm going to do now. I gotta pass this class. . . .â
Charly pressed her lips together. She couldnât let him down. It was because of her that heâd waited so long to tackle the paper. Sheâd told him not to worry, that she had him, that she was something like an A or B English student. Now, itâd seem as if her word was no good, and she couldnât have that.
âKill the worry, Mason. Iâll work it out.â
2
âC harly!â
Before the front door closed behind her, Brigetteâs voice ambushed her from somewhere inside the house. Probably upstairs in the bedroom, Charly assumed. Ninety-nine-point-seven percent of the time thatâs where her mother took up residence. Brigetteâs
Paul Brannigan, Ian Winwood
Shawn Michel de Montaigne