My Clueless Broken Heart (School Dayz #3) Read online

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  At night, we hide out in the carriage house, with Val covering for me in the event Mom and Dad start snooping.

  “Did your parents mention anything about tomorrow?” Travis asks as we lay together on his bed. Moonlight creeps in through the open blinds, casting a silver glow around the room.

  “They’re going to some ‘watch the ball drop’ event in New York, hosted by The Nature Channel. My dad wants them to co-produce their next film. So, it looks like I’m available.”

  “Can you come here? My father and I have a tradition involving large quantities of Chinese take-out. After dinner, I’ll tell him to find somewhere to go.”

  I squint in the dim light, trying to read his expression. “You’re kicking your dad out of the house on New Year’s Eve?”

  “It’s good for him. Mrs. Hunter invites him to a party every year, but he never goes. He spends too much time by himself.” Travis reaches one hand around to the back of my neck and brings my face closer to his. “It’s almost time for you to go.” His lips glide over mine. I relax into him, halting all further thought of conversation. My eyes drift closed and I’m nearly asleep when he speaks again.

  “Tomorrow night, my place, six o’clock. Then, back to your house, but only if you can keep your promise, no matter who or what is nearby.”

  Snuggled against him, I murmur in agreement. Travis moves away and the absence of his body heat jolts me fully awake.

  I stretch out my arms, reaching for him. “I’m sure we can sneak away at midnight.” I yawn. “Based on the past few New Year’s Eves, Gran may be snoring away on her recliner.”

  “That little sister of yours will be awake. She doesn’t miss a trick.”

  I loop my arms around his neck and press a kiss to his mouth, savoring the warmth of his lips on mine. “I’ll talk to her. She can be quite the accomplice if I make it worth the effort to distract Gran for us.”

  ***

  Nine days. My parents have been home for nine days and haven’t said one word about leaving. The possibility of them sticking around after the holidays terrifies me. A new film is in the works, but at what stage I can’t tell. I’ve overheard discussions about pre-production schedules and staffing levels, but for the first time, money seems to be an issue. Not many film studios are interested in scientific documentaries, despite my parents’ track record of success.

  Suffice it to say, the longer Mom and Dad park their butts in Gran’s guest room, the more they screw up my life. And the more traumatized Avery will be whenever they decide to pack up and leave.

  ***

  “Ave! Becks! Out of bed, girls! Family Breakfast! Pancakes!”

  Dad calls us three times before Avery and I shuffle into the dining room, where he and Mom are waiting with Gran.

  Dad stabs his knife through a tower of pancakes. “We have funding, girls. Your mother and I will be leaving next week to scout locations.” I cheer in my head. “But, before we go, we wanted to talk to you about the future.”

  Mom speaks next. “Your father and I have discussed taking one or both of you with us. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

  The cheering in my head screeches to a halt. Avery’s eyes grow wide and round. She looks like a goldfish who’s spied a cat lurking around her glass bowl.

  “Why can’t you just stay here with us?” she asks. “Film a movie in America. You can find plenty of monkeys at the zoo.”

  “We can’t leave Gran,” I say.

  “I’ll be fine, Becca,” Gran says, weakly. “Do what’s best for you.”

  Dad directs a pointed stare my way. “Becca, your mother and I believe you’re old enough to appreciate what we’re offering. Think of how this experience would set you apart on college applications. We’d hire a private tutor to keep up to speed with your classwork.”

  “I’m not moving to Africa.” I lift my glass of juice and then slam it back down on the tabletop. “I don’t even want to move to New Jersey.” I glare at my parents. “You chose to leave us. I choose to stay here. With Gran.”

  Mom’s face pinches. “Becca, you go where we tell you. End of story.”

  Resisting the temptation to use her perfect face for target practice, I push back from the table and run from the dining room. After slamming the kitchen door hard enough to shake the hinges, I storm across the yard and knock for Travis. He answers a minute later, shirtless and barefoot, wearing old sweatpants.

  Smiling through the screen, he runs a hand through his damp hair, spiking up in all sorts of interesting angles. “Hey, I warned you—call first to make sure I’m decent.” Then he notices my expression, kicks open the door and pulls me inside, folding me in his arms. “What happened?”

  I press my cheek against his bare chest, still warm from the shower. His familiar scent helps to slow my heavy breaths. I tell him about my family’s breakfast conversation, my eyes stinging until I finally give in and allow the first tear to fall. I’m a slow cryer. My eyes drip like a leaky faucet, alternating, left and right.

  “It’s my fault,” Travis says. “They wouldn’t think about taking you away if we weren’t together.”

  I wipe a lingering tear from my cheek. “No, they would do it, anyway. They finally realized how little I care about them. So they decided to take me away from everything I do care about. You. Gran. Avery. Sports.” I loop my arms around his neck. “But I can’t leave you. I’ll run away before I let them take me to another continent.”

  “Stop, Becca.” Travis lowers his mouth to mine. His kiss sends waves of comforting heat through me. “They’re just trying to scare you. Your grandmother can talk sense into them, right?”

  “Yes, but she’s different now, too. She backs down more often. It’s like she’s afraid of them, so she lets them have their way when they’re here.”

  Travis takes me by the hand and leads me up to his room. For an hour, maybe two, he holds me tight and lets me vent.

  “My parents are ridiculous. So much drama whenever they’re home.” I heave a sigh. “Is this why you never talked to me?”

  He traces a line from my ear to my jaw. “After the last few months, I don’t know how we went so many years without talking to each other. Maybe it was enough for us just to be around each other.”

  “You always seemed to know how sad I was when my mom and dad left. You’d make fun of Gran behind her back so I’d laugh. Or stop by my locker and ask to borrow a pencil.”

  “Maybe I forgot my pencil and I knew you’d have an extra.”

  I shake my head. “No. You knew it made me feel important when an older guy acknowledged my existence. When I was upset, I just … needed to know that somebody understood how I felt. That was you, wasn’t it?”

  “I hated seeing you upset over them. Like you thought no one cared enough to be there for you.” He rolls me on top of him and warmth flows from his body to mine. “When my mom died, I was too young to realize how much it would hurt. But I still miss her and it sucks. Mother’s Day—don’t talk to me. My birthday is a drag. I hate thinking of another year without her and I never really knew her.”

  “When is your birthday? I don’t even know the date.”

  “One week before yours.”

  I lift my head from his chest, my eyes wide. “February tenth?”

  He nods. “Good guess.”

  “How could I not know that?”

  His eyes flick away from me. “I don’t remember ever celebrating my birthday.”

  My heart pauses an extra second between beats. “What? No cake with candles? Even if it was only you and your dad?”

  “My dad doesn’t like birthdays. He does like St. Paddy’s day, though.”

  “Can we celebrate together this year? Just you and me?”

  His hand presses into the small of my back, holding me close. “Sure. We can do a lot of things, just you and me.”

  I touch my mouth to his and taste his minty toothpaste. “Will you move to Africa with me?”

  He laughs. “You’re not going anywhere, Be
cca. I promise.”

  “Okay.” I give him a doubtful look as I run my hand over the top of his hair, using my fingers to sweep the front layer to the side. He’d never bothered to put a shirt on and I can’t resist glancing down at his chest. “You know, I like it when you’re indecent. I should surprise you more often.”

  He groans and shifts beneath me. “Give me a few more minutes and you’re going to be indecent, too.”

  Chapter Twenty

  By the time Travis convinces me to go home and face my parents, they’re nowhere to be found. Their rental car is missing from the driveway. In the kitchen, Gran putters, opening spice jars and stirring her cracked wooden spoon through a pot of tomato sauce. The babble of a cooking show drifts from the small TV on the countertop.

  “You shouldn’t disappear all day without telling anyone, Becca.” Gran lifts her eyes from the sauce.

  “You knew where I was, didn’t you?”

  At the sound of my harsh tone, her eyes narrow. “Yes, I suppose, but exactly what were you doing?”

  I lift a shoulder. “Talking.”

  Gran pulls her spoon from the pot, glancing at a commercial featuring Jose Garces, one of her celebrity chef crushes. Red sauce drips on the counter and she absently reaches for a paper towel. “You need to understand something, honey. Running to Travis is getting to be self-destructive. Every time you leave, it upsets your parents.”

  “What about me? I’m upset too, Gran.”

  “Hmmm,” is all Gran says.

  I grab a broom from the closet and harness my agitation by sweeping the floor. “Will they really try to take me away from here?”

  She digs her spoon back into the sauce and stirs, setting her free hand on her hip for balance. “It’s actually not a terrible idea. They’re right about what a great experience it would be. And you always miss them when they’re gone.”

  “Not anymore. I’m totally fine without them.” I straighten the broom and lean against the wood handle. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”

  She lowers the flame on the stove and steps away to flip off the TV. When the room is silent, she says, “I’ll make sure your voice is heard, Becca. But, let’s try to work this out in a way that keeps everyone happy, if possible.”

  I shove the broom back in the closet. “Travis says they won’t make me go.”

  Gran arches an eyebrow. “They won’t, or you won’t let them?”

  “They’re just trying to scare me into doing what they want.” I glance at the clock and realize the day has completely escaped me. “He invited me to his place for dinner. What time should I be home?”

  “Avery and I will be fine without you. Just, please, get back here before your parents.”

  “You’re the best, Gran. Thanks.” I wrap my arms around her, breathing in the scent of rosy body lotion, sweet basil, and the comfort of the only real home I’ve ever known.

  ***

  “Is Josh coming over?” I ask Travis. Take-out cartons line the countertop like miniature soldiers, ready to do battle. Wisps of steam rise in the air, filling the room with the scents of soy sauce and garlic.

  Mr. Brennen laughs. “This is the Brennen version of dinner for three. Our New Year’s Eve tradition is to order one of everything on the Golden Chopsticks take-out menu, and then heartily regret it the next day.” He slides a chair out from the table. “Have a seat, Becca. Travis, get your friend a drink.”

  Travis opens the refrigerator and pulls out two beers. “Dad lets me drink at home when I’m not driving. Do you want wine or a soda?”

  I choose ginger ale, hoping to avoid a repeat performance of my Thanksgiving weekend party behavior. Beer relaxes Travis, though, and he and his father spend the next hour telling funny stories about my grandfather sneaking over to the carriage house whenever he’d had his fill of females.

  “So, this is where he hid when he needed a break from Gran, Avery, and me?”

  “Too many women, he used to say.” Mr. Brennen sips his beer. “Claimed the noise level at your house was either screams of laughter or brutally loud tears. But our house can be too quiet. Right, son?”

  “That’s why I invited Becca over. She livens up a party.” Travis smiles at me from behind his half-empty bottle. “What’s your fortune cookie say?”

  I crack it open. “Love will fill your home with happiness.”

  “Strangely appropriate,” Travis comments.

  “How so?” I ask, but he just shakes his head. I turn to Travis’s dad. “What does yours say, Mr. Brennen?”

  He sets down his beer, breaks a cookie in half and strains to read the tiny printing. “I think it says I need new glasses.” He passes the slip of paper to his son.

  “Actually, it says now would be a good time for you to vacate the premises.”

  “Travis!” I shoot him an angry look, but Mr. Brennen laughs.

  “And yours predicts a future filled with chores. You’ve been nothing but lazy over winter break.”

  “Yes, sir,” Travis answers. “I’m not lazy, though. Becca keeps me busy.”

  “No way,” I protest. “You text me all day long.”

  “And I’m sure the two of you have plans for the evening that don’t revolve around entertaining me,” Mr. Brennen says, sensing a mostly good-natured argument heating up. “I’ll go have a beer with the old people, I guess.” I hug and kiss him goodbye and the two men clap each other on the back, exchanging an early Happy New Year.

  After Mr. Brennen leaves, Travis and I clear the table, mostly just tossing take-out boxes and paper plates in the trash.

  “Gran said she and Avery are fine by themselves if we want to hang out here tonight.”

  “Really? I was looking forward to watching your dance party.” He stands behind me, circling his arms around my waist.

  “We could always talk instead. Or watch a movie.”

  “Or something else,” he says, in a low voice.

  When the clock strikes midnight, Travis takes me in his arms. Our first kiss of the year is cut short by a clatter of pots and pans in the backyard, announcing the end of our evening alone. Travis opens the door and waves to the Avery and Gran parade. When they stop in front of the carriage house, Travis kisses my grandmother on the cheek, high fives Avery, and then hugs me hard.

  “Text you later,” he says.

  After I celebrate with Gran over a late cup of herbal tea, I change into my warmest flannel pajamas. Before I fall asleep, I decide to call Travis rather than answer his text. I want to hear his voice one more time.

  “Hey. I thought you might’ve fallen asleep by now.”

  “No, I just had tea with Gran.” I turn my head toward the window, wishing I could see his face. “Are you decent?”

  “Come over here and find out. You wearing those reindeer pajamas?”

  “How did you know? I put them on just to torture you.”

  His laughter rumbles through the phone. “I hate this. You’re so close, but I can’t get to you. Like a princess in an ivory tower.”

  We’re both quiet, with only the sound of his steady breaths lulling me to sleep.

  “No one’s ever called me a princess before.” I speak through a yawn. “That’s more Avery’s style. She’s the star of the show and I’m the stage crew.”

  “I like the stage crew.”

  “I liked it better when you called me a princess.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, it’s sad, but I do. Want to come over in a few hours for New Year’s breakfast?”

  He pauses. “I’ll stop over if your parents go out. If not, wait for a text message with the location of our next undercover meetup.”

  “You’re weird, Travis.”

  “That’s not what you say when you see me half-naked, is it?”

  I smother a laugh in my pillow. “Right. Because normal guys answer their door when they’re not wearing a shirt.”

  “Only for you,” he whispers, and then, “Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomor
row.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  New Year’s Day, I resist the urge to grab Gran’s mug of coffee and pour a gallon of my liquid wake-up pill down my throat. Mom’s caffeine restrictions will remain in place for the duration of her visit.

  Between bites of mushy Rice Krispies, I check my phone for a text from Travis. Even if he’s sleeping in, he usually rolls over and checks his phone at least once before ten.

  “Good morning, Becca.” Mom rolls into the kitchen sounding like she’s the one secretly self-injecting caffeine before brushing her gleaming white teeth. She plants herself at the table next to me and pesters me until I agree to go clothes shopping with her.

  “Fabulous,” she says, leaving the room to grab her coat. “You must know where to go for the latest fashion.”

  I glance down at my ratty flannel pajamas. “I think Avery’s your better choice if you want style.”

  Mom types a quick message into her phone, only half-listening to my protests. “Go get dressed. I need to be back by noon and you’ll make my shopping trip much more efficient.”

  Apparently, Marlowe Thornton is all about efficiency.

  ***

  We spend two hours of solid mother-daughter bonding time at the mall. Moms buys a cardigan sweater set and a new pair of gloves before whisking us home for lunch. Not exactly high fashion.

  In the dining room, Gran arranges a buffet of holiday leftovers at the long table, even though it’s only the five of us. Dad decides to liven up our meal with a science-themed pop quiz. Avery guesses the smallest monkey in the world, the pygmy marmoset, which nets her ten dollars straight from his wallet. Next, he challenges me to name every zone of the rainforest, but I pretend not to hear his question as I check for texts from Travis.