Don't You Wish by Roxanne St. Claire Read Free Book Online

next to you.”
    I have a car? Of course! It’s dreamland! “Nah, but I need a ride to school. With Jade,” I add, kind of smug for catching on to this gig so fast.
    He lets out a grunt like I’ve punched him. “That little skank never shuts up.”
    I want to defend my friend, but just as I open my mouth,a place mat flutters down in front of me, and Mathilda sets a glass bowl of yogurt on it, a mint sprig at a jaunty angle. Spoon, napkin, and a tall glass of OJ.
    I half expect her to bow.
    “Thank you,” I reply, looking up at her.
    She stares at me as if I’ve spoken in another language. But the woman on the phone has ended her call and turned around, and she approaches the table, stealing all my attention.
    “Are you still determined to do this?” she asks.
    I blink at her. Mom? Holy smokes, she looks different. All shiny and smooth and tight. Her face is kind of amazing and weird at the same time. Her eyes are bright, brows high. There’s not a wrinkle in sight, and her hair is silky, thick, and definitely not bottle blond. She paid big money for that highlights job.
    “I’m going to take that as a yes,” she replies for me, parking a hip on the corner of the table.
    She’s in a body-hugging knit dress, with several heavy necklaces hanging around her neck. Whoa, this mom’s been hitting the gym and skipping the ice cream after dinner.
    “You look great, Mom.” The words are out before I know it.
    She tilts her head to the side, her eyes narrowing in distrust. “You don’t have to do that.”
    “Do what?”
    “Put on this act.”
    “It’s not an act.” It’s a
dream
. Didn’t everyone else get the memo?
    “Why are you wearing that?” she asks.
    I automatically check for a bra strap showing, which would be what usually upsets Mom about a T-shirt. “Uh, because I like it?”
    “You told me you hated Juicy.”
    At two hundred dollars a pop? “Well, I took the tag off,” I say. “Did you want to return it?”
    Trent snorts and looks up at her, some kind of silent communication passing between them. “I know, dawg. She’s all effed up today.”
    I don’t know what to be more surprised at—how everyone seems to think I’m different, or the fact that this kid can say “effed up” and call his mom “dawg” and get away with it.
    “Ayla, I saw the card when the rose arrived.” She frowns. Sort of. More of a Botox frown attempt.
    The card … the rose. Dang, I should have read it. I opt for a shrug.
    “I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Mom says, her voice—her whole being, actually—so oddly taut. “It’s just that—”
    “Use a condom, nitwit,” Trent says, picking up his cereal bowl to chug the milk, suddenly reminding me very much of Theo, except Theo is ten and wouldn’t mention a condom in the kitchen if his life depended on it.
    “Exactly,” Mom says. “Be smart. I like Ryder. I just want you to realize your own value.”
    I have no earthly idea how to respond.
    “I have some raincoats you kids can use,” Trent says, holding his bowl out in midair. The cook magically appearsto relieve him of it. He gives me a smart-ass smirk as he lifts his shirt and shows off an impressive six-pack. “Obviously, I have plenty of need for them.”
    “Obviously.” Just like obviously, you’re a tool.
    Mom smoothes her dress, eyes cast down. “Has anyone seen Dad?”
    For a moment I sense an uncomfortable silence, noticing that Trent is suddenly preoccupied with his place mat. Mathilda twists the faucet with a vicious jerk.
    Mom’s gaze lands on me. “Did you see him yet today?”
    Didn’t she see him when she woke up? “No.”
    “Did he …” Her voice trails off. “I’ll check his room.”
    He has his own room? As she starts to walk away, Mathilda sidesteps and puts out a hand to stop her, shaking her head.
    Mom closes her eyes for just a second, and even though she’s been tucked and ’toxed, I see the corners of her mouth draw down, just like they did on the