Don't Tell Mother (3 page)

“It’s not always about winning.” Hands on hips, Lowe flashed a smug smile.

Tears of frustration slipped down my cheeks, which angered me even more. She made me cry in front of my team, in front of the whole school!

“Yes, it is. We’re here to win, to bring pride to our school.”

“That’s right.” She nodded. “We are. Being nice to your team is one way of doing that.”

“Whatever. You don’t know anything about this school or our principal.” I wiped my cheeks with the backs of my hands before pointing to the crowd, which had now gone silent. This only raised my humiliation to a new level. “When Mr. Sparks finds out you made the team lose the game because the star player hurt your feelings, you’ll be looking for a new coaching job.”

Before I gave into my urge to smack that fake hurt expression off Lowe’s face, I stormed off. Tears were escaping freely now, but I was too angry to stop them.

As I neared the locker room, a few people shouted, “Bring back AJ!” I smiled inwardly, recognizing the squeals of Sophie and Krysta, which were almost drowned out by the sound of Bob’s booming voice.

****

“Are you going to be in there all night?” Mike was taking forever in the bathroom, and I was sick of waiting. No way was I using the showers in the locker room. I was too upset to stay around and face my friends. Thank God we only lived a few miles away. I was half-way home before Mother picked me up. This was one night I was actually glad Mother didn’t go to my game. If she’d seen me getting kicked off the court, I’d never live it down.

All I wanted to do was curl up in my bed with my doggie, Patches, and listen to my iPod—after a hot shower. But Mike was hogging the bathroom again. Sometimes I thought he stayed in there longer than he had to just to get on my nerves.

“Got to look good for the ladies.” Mike opened the bathroom door, admiring his muscles in the mirror one last time and reeking of cologne overload.

“Where are you going? It’s a school night.” I leaned against the doorframe, folding my arms across my chest.

Mike flashed his bleached whites in the mirror before turning out the light. “Krystal James’ house to study.”

What? Mother shouldn’t be letting him go out now. It was past dark. Why did Mike get to do whatever he wanted? It wasn’t fair.

As Mike crossed the threshold and stepped into the hallway, the scent of cologne was almost overpowering.

I coughed several times, waving my hand in front of my face. “Studying. Right. What’s all the cologne for?”

He smirked, lifting his eyebrows. “We’re studying chemistry.”

Sure. I knew exactly what chemistry he had in mind. “Is Krystal James Amber James’ big sister?”

Mike puffed up his chest like some big stupid ape preparing for a mating ritual. “She’s the one.”

“I’ve seen her at your games. Her skirt barely covered her butt cheeks.”

On one particular night, she walked up and down the bleachers, giving the guys in the stands a great view of her legs and what was in between. I wanted to grab that slip of fabric she called clothing and yank it down to her toes.

Mike grabbed my shoulder, looking into my eyes with a knowing grin. “Why do you think I made her my study partner?”

“You’re a pig.” Intending to wipe that cocky smirk off his face, I shot him my best evil glare.

He put his nose by my hair, sniffed once, and then jerked away. “At least I don’t smell like one.”

Gritting my teeth, I clenched my fists. “I had a game.”

“Early night,” he laughed. “Get your butts stomped?”

“Go away.” I turned away to keep him from seeing the rising heat in my cheeks. If Mike knew what really happened, he’d torment me for months.

I could still feel his annoying presence directly behind my back along with that awful smell. Didn’t he realize there really was such a thing as too much cologne?

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” he sang in a taunting melody.

Shivers of annoyance and dread raced up my arms. Mike was screwing with me. I recognized that tone in his voice from when we were in elementary school and Mike would spit loogies in my orange juice when I wasn’t looking.

“What’d you do to my toothbrush?” I turned, narrowing my gaze at him.

“Nothing.” He shrugged his shoulders, pretending innocence. “I just thought you needed a hint.”

I leaned against the doorframe, rubbing my aching temples. “I hate you.”

Mike shook his head and gave me his best fake smile. “PMS time?”

That was it! I’d had enough!

“Time to shove my fist in your face.” I lunged at Mike, clawing and punching at whatever skin I could find.

Unfortunately, my brother was a skilled fighter. He’d had fourteen years of practice holding me down and farting in my face. Before I had time to stop him, he had my arm twisted behind my back and my face pressed into the wall.

“Allison Jenette,” Mother screeched as she came flying down the hallway. “That is no way for a lady to behave.”

I pushed Mike off of me and faced my mother, rubbing the sore wrist he had squeezed too hard. “What about him?” I yelled.

How did I know this would all be my fault? Didn’t she see
I
was the one in the headlock?

Suddenly, Mike’s chest deflated and his shoulders dropped. His blue eyes were as wide as saucers, making him look like an innocent schoolboy. “I was coming out of the bathroom and she attacked me.”

“Yeah, right,” I fumed. “Like you were doing nothing wrong?”

“She called me a pig.” He pointed an accusing finger, batting his lashes and turning his lips in a pout.

As if
I
could hurt his feelings! The maggot had no feelings! “You
are
a pig.”

“Young lady, that’s enough.” Mother’s hands were on her hips, her stern glare sending me warning signals. I’d seen that look thousands of times, right before I got my stereo taken away or I was put on social probation.

“Why does he get to stay out late on a school night?” I demanded.

Mother gave Mike a doting smile, right before turning her eye darts back on me. “He has to keep his grades up.”

“Yeah.” Mike folded his arms across his chest, tilting his chin. “It isn’t easy being so successful.”

“Are you going to get her to do your homework like all your other girlfriends, or is she doing
other
favors for you?”

Mother stepped back, fingers splayed across her chest, looking like I had just belched at the table. “I can’t believe you are talking like that with your mother present.”

I hated it when she spoke in third person, and the way she used the word “mother” like she was referring to a queen.

Mike was laughing under his breath and making faces at me from behind her. Such a child. How could girls like him?

Anger returned with a vengeance. “Do me a favor and die, Mike.”

“Allison, that’s a terrible thing to say.” Mother whimpered like a wounded animal. Her bottom lip trembled, and there was a hint of a tear in her right eye. “Don’t ever wish death on anyone. What if he died tonight? Wouldn’t you feel bad?”

Would I? At the moment, I didn’t think so. I’d have the bathroom all to myself. No more zit juice on the mirror or Vaseline smeared all over the toilet seat. Not to mention my life would no longer be a living hell!

I decided to be the mature one in the situation and bow out. “I’m getting in the shower.”

“Good,” Mother scolded. “Maybe you should wash that mouth out with soap.”

I shut the door on her before she finished speaking. I knew that would really make her mad, but I couldn’t trust my temper a minute longer. My friends knew I spoke whatever was on my mind and then some.

I swore as I drew back the shower curtain. Mike had left the shampoo cap off; the bottle had tipped over, leaving a gooey mess dripping down the center of the tub. What a waste. Now, there was barely enough left for me.
Pig
.

No use complaining. Mike would say I did it, and Mother would side with him—like always.

I groaned, thinking of what she must be telling my step-dad, Ted, about me. How I’d attacked my brother, told him to die, and then shut the door in her face. Mother always complains to my step-dad that I don’t care about her feelings and that I intentionally act up to make her life hell.

Thank God Ted doesn’t always believe her. I don’t know what I’d do without his support. He was the only family member I could tolerate.

If Mother knew what I thought sometimes, how really aggravating she could be when she expected me to be someone I wasn’t, she’d lock herself in her room and cry for a month. I was hoping this school year Mother and I would actually get along. So far, we were off to a bad start.

And tomorrow was Friday. Bob was coming over for dinner, which meant my relationship with Mother would go from bad to ugly—really ugly.

Chapter Three

“What happened on the court last night?” Krysta stared accusingly at me from over the top of her puke-green vinyl bus seat.

“Yeah,” Sophie scolded. “We waited for you after the game.”

Krysta and Sophie shared nods of agreement. I suppose they’d rehearsed my butt chewing. Didn’t they understand I wanted to be alone?

“We tried to IM you,” Krysta said, “but you never came online.”

Sighing, I leaned my back against the window as I recalled how they cheered for me last night. Somehow, no matter how bad things got, they were always there for me. Too bad my own family couldn’t do that.

“I was too pissed off to talk to anyone.” Even though my friends were trying to help last night, I didn’t trust myself not to take my anger out on them.

Sophie’s eyes widened and then narrowed in a look of understanding. “Your new coach must have really pissed you off.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Sophie didn’t need to be a mind reader to figure that one out. “Yep.”

Krysta smiled, nudging Sophie as if they were in on some private joke.

Even though I had the night to cool down, I wasn’t in the mood for any games. “What’s that look for, Krysta?”

Folding her arms across the top of my seat, Krysta leaned toward me. I could tell by the determined look in her eyes, she had some juicy gossip. “I think your coach pissed off Sparks, too.”

“Really?” Finally—some good news. Principal Sparks was one guy you didn’t want to mess with. The only teacher I’d ever seen stand up to him and live to tell was my math teacher, Mrs. Stein, but she was way cool. Coach Lowe was a major dweeb. Maybe she’d lose her job, and Sparks would hire a real coach.

Sophie propped herself next to Krysta. “We waited forever for you to come out of your locker-room, and when all the other players left, we heard Sparks yelling.”

“We thought he was yelling at you.” Krysta’s eyebrows rose behind her bangs, as she placed careful emphasis on each juicy detail. “But then your new coach came out, and we could tell she’d been crying.”

Crying? Good. Now she knew how
I
felt. But what did he say to make her cry? Was it about me? “Did you hear what he said?”

“No,” Krysta moaned. “We heard screaming, but we couldn’t make out what he was saying. We had our ears against the door, the wall, the floor…”

Hmmm. This was getting interesting. “Sparks must have chewed her butt for kicking me off the court.”

“Uhhh, yeah,” Sophie snickered. “We lost by over fifty points.”

“Holy crap!” Sparks hated losing—for any reason. But getting our butts stomped so royally must have really made him mad. No wonder Lowe was crying, but what did she tell him about me? Did she try to say it was all my fault? “Sophie, did you get a chance to read Lowe’s mind?”

She shook her head. “I tried, but when she came out of the locker-room, she looked at us and ran.”

“Crap.” I pounded the bench with my fist. “I wish I knew what she was thinking.”

Squinting her eyes, Sophie creased her brow in confusion. “Well, I did get a chance to hear one thing, but it didn’t make any sense.”

I shot up. Something was better than nothing. “What did she say?”

“Twenty? Ha! Try thirty, stupid.” Sophie shrugged. “I told you it didn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe your coach and Sparks were arguing about points,” Krysta suggested.

“No,” I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to decipher Lowe’s thoughts. “That doesn’t make any sense.” Then a memory from last night hit me. Something I said to Lowe when we were arguing. “Wait a minute. Last night I asked her if she was twenty.”

“O-mi-god!” Sophie squealed. “She’s thirty!”

“I want to know what moisturizer she uses,” Krysta said. “She doesn’t look that old.”

“Yeah,” I huffed. “And she definitely doesn’t act that old.”

Sophie pointed, grinning. “That means she called you stupid, AJ.”

“That’s okay,” I laughed. “I called her a lot worse all last night.”

“I wonder if the rest of your team knows she’s thirty,” Krysta cooed.

“Probably not.” I rolled my eyes, remembering how Lowe giggled and slapped hands with my team. “They treat her like she’s one of them.” Then again, she acts like she’s one of them. “But that nice piece of dirt might be useful later. Thanks, Sophie.”

My elation on learning Lowe’s real age was short lived. All morning, I’d had a hard knot in my stomach that was threatening to rise into my chest and force me to hurl. Bob was coming over for dinner tonight, and I couldn’t escape the feeling my life was a hopeless scrimmage with bad calls and no time outs.

I looked at Sophie, my mind reading buddy and wondered what the experience would be like if I invited her tonight. Would I want to know what Bob thought about my mother, or what my mother thought about him? Actually, I probably didn’t need Sophie. Mother had a way of letting us know her feelings with actions. Tonight was going to be scary, very scary.

****

I kept telling myself things could have been worse as I sat across the table from my scowling Mother. Even though his hair was still green, Bob wore his Mohawk down and only one nose ring. Also, at my request, he’d left off the duct tape. Bob even wore a tie, although I knew my parents disapproved of the way he draped it over a T-shirt and cut off jeans.