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  Chapter 7

  I was awoken by my mother stroking my hair.

  "You forgot to set your alarm sleepy head," she said. "And there is a rather good looking boy at the door saying you have his coat."

  I jumped up. "What time is it?" I said in a panic as I looked around the room for clean clothes. Adrenaline was forcing its way through my body. Did I really need clean underwear? Yes, but where did I keep it? The dresser!

  "Almost eight," she said. "So... you have a boy's coat," she added meaningfully.

  Jeans did not make sense to me. Was that a third leg or the waist? "Yeah, it's Bran's."

  "The new boy?" Her tone wasn't as surprised as it should have been.

  "Yes." Why did t-shirts have to be so confusing? "I don't have time to talk about it now," I said as I grabbed socks, added them to the clothes already slung over my arm and ran to the bathroom.

  "I expect a better update than that after school," she called after me.

  Without time for a shower, my only hope of taming my disheveled hair was tying it into a ponytail. I hated ponytails. I felt so exposed, but it was better than being labelled 'bedhead' for the rest of the year. I nipped back into my room to grab Bran's coat, which I had somehow removed in my sleep. I said good-bye to my mother and headed to the front door.

  "Morning, dove," Bran said in greeting as I turned the corner. He looked much more put together than I did but that wasn't difficult. He always looked amazing. I held out his red coat for him before realizing he was already wearing a black wool coat.

  "Keep it," he said. "It looks good on you."

  I flushed even as I put it back on. "Thanks for picking me up," I said stretching my arm through the sleeve. "I'd probably still be snoring in bed all through first period."

  He chuckled. "I doubt you snore."

  I poked him in the chest. "You keep thinking that, Mr. Rose Spectacles."

  His smile broadened. Far from being ashamed at the accusation, he seemed downright proud. "When it comes to you, always."

  I shouted one last good-bye to my mother before grabbing my bag and heading out the door with him to his car.

  "How do you like the book?" he asked as he opened my door for me.

  "Haven't started. I fell asleep the moment I got in," I confessed.

  He pouted but smiled again when I promised I would give it a try the first chance I got.

  I looked over at Michael's front door. I almost got out of the car to go make sure he was awake. I stopped myself. Why? He had made it clear he didn't need me. If I needed to learn how to live without him, he could learn to live without me. He had Maria Wallace.

  We pulled away and I turned back to Bran. There was no reason to hold out for Michael anymore. It was time to move on. I had a chance with Bran. I pulled his coat more tightly around my body. It still smelled of him, of ancient forests. He had said he would be my friend even if there wasn't more. I wanted more. When I would no longer feel guilty, I would give him what we both wanted.

  My foundling ease with the situation had waned by the time lunch came. I had endured an entire morning of classes I shared with both Michael and Maria.

  I refused to speak to Michael. I wasn't deliberately giving him the cold shoulder so much as feeling too embarrassed to draw his attention my way. For his part, he seemed preoccupied with Maria and probably hadn't noticed my silence. Given their hand holding when they walked into Biology, their relationship was out in the open. News spread at the usual rate of teen gossip. They were the talk of the school by the time the lunch bell rang. There was even a stupid nickname for them: M&M. I wanted to heave. I had never suspected Michael to be the PDA type given his germaphobia but there he was walking the halls hand in hand with Maria and slipping her kisses between classes.

  I stared at my tray as I sat in the cafeteria. I had been too distracted to deviate from routine and had paid little attention in the line-up. The result was that I was now trying to identify the amorphous brown blob on my tray. I was leaning towards chili but the white lumps of something that might have been potato seemed to indicate shepherd's pie.

  "You don't look well," Bran said as he sat down across from me.

  I pushed my tray away. "I'm not. I think I need some air."

  He suggested we go for a walk and I agreed. We left the cafeteria and my mockery of a lunch behind. He said absolutely nothing about me not eating.

  We walked out to the track. The sleet had petered out in the night and the sun had returned. It was best to enjoy the warmth; it would be short lived. This was the teaser Spring before our last deep freeze of the year. It would be another month or two before real Spring made its debut. My enthusiasm for the nice weather was quashed by the memory that we had practice with Mrs. Montgomery that afternoon.

  "You alright?" Bran asked. "You look green." A crease formed between his eyebrows.

  "Just worried about rehearsal tonight. I am pretty sure Mrs. Montgomery won't be very happy with me. I haven't practiced."

  Bran wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I sunk against him without meaning to but now that I was pressed against his side, I felt too good to pull away. "That will change," he said, giving my shoulders a squeeze. After another moment, he asked, "How did you learn to play without a piano?"

  I stared at the ground, letting him guide me as we walked. "We used to have one. My mother had insisted I start taking it when I was little. I liked it and wasn't bad at it. I used to practice all the time but then the furnace went two years ago and we had no money to replace it. It was at the worst possible time of course, right after Christmas and in the thick of January. It was the coldest day of the year. I offered to work at the clinic but we didn't have time to save up so she had to sell the piano to pay for the new furnace. I did end up working at the clinic for a while. I tried to give my mother the money but she refused. She also insisted I stop working. She claimed she was afraid my grades would drop and I wouldn't get into university. It all meant no piano for us, so outside class, I haven't played since."

  He gave my shoulders another squeeze but said nothing. I wrapped an arm around his back and sighed. It felt right to share with him. As much as the gnawing demanded more, it was also pleased that I was no longer so resistant. The pain in my chest was becoming more bearable.

  That day's rehearsal was hell. Every few bars Mrs. Montgomery would stop to yell at us. She kept us for two hours and by the end we all looked like we had run a marathon. She gave out three detentions—miraculously none to me—and threatened more would be given out next time if we did not work harder. Considering the next rehearsal was the very next day, I wasn't sure how much she was expecting us to accomplish before then.

  "I'll be in detention for the rest of the term," I complained as Bran and I walked to his car.

  He chuckled. "I doubt it. There are much worse in the class. Ben holds his bow like a club."

  My mother had not yet left for work when we got back to my house. She called a greeting from the kitchen. When we walked in, she was sitting at the table. With all the night shifts, her dark circles had become particularly pronounced. There was a coffee on the table next to her; the smell had long since dissipated. Riley was asleep at her feet, a small but identifiable puddle of drool had formed around his mouth.

  "Everything alright, mom?" I asked.

  She looked at me and then Bran before nodding. "You kids studying tonight?"

  I opened the fridge in search of something appetizing. Nothing was calling to me. "I have a summary to write for English and some math homework but that won't take long."

  "So long as you focus," she said. There was a hint of accusation in her voice.

  I looked over my shoulder at Bran. "You mind finding something on TV? I'll bring the food out."

  He nodded and walked out of the kitchen. I closed the fridge door and cross my arms in front of my chest as I looked at my mother. "What's really going on?"

  She shrugged. "Just wondering what is happening between the two of you."
>
  There had never been anyone interested in me before so I had never seen how my mother would respond to the situation. I was getting the impression that she was going to be an overprotective pain. I tolerated it as a game when she harped on me about school work. I was not sure I could tolerate it in regards to Bran. The gnawing in my chest shrieked its agreement. I decided to play ignorant. "Happening? You mean: dating?"

  She gave a firm nod. "How long?"

  I laughed. "I'll tell you when it happens."

  Her shoulders relaxed. "Then you're not?" The question flowed out on a long breath.

  I shook my head. "Not yet anyway." I slid into the chair across from her and lowered my voice. "He's asked but I haven't decided."

  She blinked. "Why not?"

  She was probably trying to figure out what was wrong with her daughter for not immediately snapping up someone like Bran.

  "I don't know," I confessed. I stared at the table between us.

  "This isn't my fault, is it?" She asked. A crease had formed between her eyebrows.

  I blinked back at her. Her fault? How? She had never entered my thoughts in all of my inner turmoil. Perhaps my confusion was evident, because she elaborated.

  "I always worried you might have trouble with men... I mean, dating. After all, you haven't had a positive male role model and they say that is a huge factor for teenage girls so, of course, I've been concerned..."

  "Mom." I reached out to grab her hand to stop her rambling. "It's ok. It isn't anything like that. I'm not sure what it is exactly. I just don't... feel ready."

  Now she blinked back at me. "But you're eighteen."

  My brow furrowed. "You want your daughter to go boy crazy?"

  "Of course not!" She withdrew her hand as if it were absurd for her to need comfort. "I'm glad you are being so mature about this. I'm just surprised. Aren't teenagers supposed to go nuts at some point?"

  I couldn't help myself. My lips pursed into a smirk. "Maybe I am. Bran's flawless and I'm still not saying yes."

  She smiled back at me. "He seems like a real gentleman, a mother's dream. Just let me know when it happens, ok?"

  I promised unnecessarily. It wasn't like I had ever managed to keep anything from her for more than a day or two. I swallowed as the night before came back to me. I hadn't told her about Michael though or what I had confessed to him. I pressed my lips together. I couldn't. I just couldn't bear to see the sympathy or sadness on her face if she knew. For the first time, I kept it to myself knowing I would never tell her.