Heather
"Heather!" Mom was yelling through my bedroom door. "I know you went out last night, but you are not missing church!" The alarm clock glowed 9:45 AM in red.
I moaned, feeling more than a little groggy and nauseous. Probably from that stupid shot of tequila. "I’m not feeling so good."
Mom opened the door and peeked through the crack. "What did you say? I couldn’t hear you."
"I feel like shit on a stick."
"Language!" She ca over to my bed. "Did sothing happen to your lip?" She ran her cool hand against my forehead.
I tried to tune out all the thoughts she was having, but failed. Worried that I’d caught sothing. Worried that my father would get sick and have to miss work after only just starting. Then worried that I’d pass it along to my brother who had to leave soon.
The woman worried way too much.
"You’re burning up." She hurried out of the room, and ca back seconds later with a glass of orange juice and a couple Tylenol in her hand. "Sit up."
I winced and grabbed at my left shoulder.
Mom’s eyes narrowed. "What’s wrong with your shoulder?"
"Nothing."
"Take off your shirt."
"Mom, it’s fine real—"
"Take off your shirt, Heather. Or I will take it off for you."
That was her patented you-better-do-what-I’m-telling-you voice. Once that showed up, there was no arguing with her.
I sucked in air as I slid my arm from my sleeve. I left the shirt dangling in front of . It was too much work to take it off completely.
My eyes watered as she pulled off the bandage. "Gentle please."
She was going to flip out in three...two...
"Who did this to you?"
My cheeks heated.
"Was it soone at the party?"
"Please, don’t tell Dad."
"God, Heather. This looks bad. Your skin is so hot, which ans it’s probably infected. Why didn’t you tell us last night?" She brushed her finger against the skin next to the wound, and I saw what her next move was going to be.
Yep. That’s what I thought. She was thinking about how to tell Dad. He was going to be extra pissed when he found out that soone from St. Francis’s—let alone his bosses second in command—had hurt . And when I told him how the Cedar Ridge High kids wanted nothing to do with now, he was going to flip. We moved all this way for nothing.
"Well, let’s get it cleaned." She looked at my shoulder again and then back at .
"I cleaned it last night." Tears welled, but I wouldn’t let them fall. "The kit’s still on my desk."
Sohow Mom taking care of my shoulder made it real. I had actually kissed Brent last night. Thinking about him made anxious to see him again. Which was beyond stupid. The guy was obviously dangerous.
"Turn around." The second the peroxide filled cotton balls touched my shoulder I nearly threw up. Last night was nothing compared to today. Mom held my shoulder still when I tried to move away.
The pain was enough to block out anything Mom was thinking. It was getting worse, not better.
"You need stitches."
God. Not the stitches talk again. "Can’t we put the Band-Aids on it and see what happens in a day or two?"
"We’ll see." The pain exploded, radiating across my back as she rubbed the Neosporin into the cuts and put on the band-aids. Gently, she helped back into the shirt.
"Let’s see the lip." She gave my lip the sa treatnt, going light on the Neosporin and leaving off the band-aid.
She sat down beside on my bed and gave that look, the one that said that if I even tried to lie I would be in serious trouble. "Did soone hurt you?"
"Please, Mom. Can we talk about it later?"
She pressed her lips together as she thought about it, and then finally sighed. "Fine. Go back to bed. I’ll co check on you in a bit."
It was humiliating the way everything always went wrong for . I lay back down and Mom tucked in.
"We will talk about this after you get so rest." She kissed my forehead and left my room.
The next ti my eyes opened, the clock read 1:56 PM. Mom was back in my room, sitting on the bed with her hand to my forehead. A million of her unasked questions slamd into . She wanted to know what happened, who did this, and why. But she was mostly worried about and angry that soone had hurt . Angry was the wrong word. She was furious.
"It’s really high," she said to Dad who was standing over us. "Definitely over 100."
He raked his fingers down his face, and then patted Mom on the back. "We’re going to take you to the hospital, Haze."
Dad left my room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Mom grabbed a pair of jeans from my closet. I sat up and picked up my bra from on top of the comforter.
"Don’t worry about the bra. It’ll only make your shoulder worse." She crossed her arms. "You ready to talk?"
I cleared my suddenly dry throat. "Not really."
I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready. It was too embarrassing. Only Heather Jones would have to get stitches because of a kiss.
"It was a boy at the party?"
God. She wasn’t going to let it go.
I nodded.
"He can’t get away with this. Heather." She paused, taking a deep breath. "Did he do anything else to you? Hurt you—"
My face burned. "Jeez, Mom. No. He kissed and got a little carried away. I don’t know how he did that to my shoulder. He must have had sothing in his hand or I dunno..."
"Sweetie. They’re deep. There’s no way it wasn’t on purpose." She sat back down on the bed, putting her face on my level, so that I was forced to look her in the eyes. "We’re going to have talk to your principal about this. Get a eting with the boy’s parents. He could have really hurt you. What if he does this or sothing worse to another girl?"
The thought of Brent with another girl made monuntally pissed off. I tried to rein my anger in, but my shoulder burned, deeper into my arm and torso.
Sowhere underneath it I knew I was losing my mind over a boy who hurt . "I don’t want to make a huge deal out of this. It’s fine. Really. It wasn’t even one of the guys from school."
She crossed her arms. "If it wasn’t soone from school, then who was it?"
Perfect. She thought I was trying to lie to her. "Brent," I whispered. Saying his na felt equal parts relief and betrayal.
"Madre Santa. The teacher from St. Francis’s?" She sucked in her breath. "Heather Elizabeth Jones!"
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