“Busy,” she snapped. “And we’re jet-lagged, we flew straight back. Now stop being such a stubborn brat.”
“Ladies,” Mr. Standish stated smoothly. “Shall we adjourn this discussion to the car?” There was another parent heading in our direction. Mom glanced at Mr. Standish, then me.
“He’s right. We have a lot to discuss, Frankie. Get in the car and stop being stubborn.”
“No.”
She made it three steps before my answer sank in.
“Excuse me?”
“I said no. I’d also appreciate it, Mr. Standish, if you’d put my backpack down.” I wasn’t going to close the distance and take it if I could help it. Then again, if I had no other choice, I’d tackle that problem, too.
Mom stared at me, her jaw tightening. The mom passing me nodded to all of us. Mr. Standish gave her a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. Mom shifted her weight.
They were both dressed pretty casually. Well, casually for Mom anyway. Mr. Standish wore a button-down shirt sans tie or jacket. Though the slacks looked expensive. Mom, on the other hand, wore far too expensive tan slacks with a paler, almost eggshell-colored halter-top. Her hair was loose and tousled.
Honestly, he looked more put together than her, but she sported more expensive jewelry than just her ring. As soon as the door closed on the other parent, Mom charged me.
“I’m not kidding, Frankie. Get in the damn car. We need to talk. We need to do it somewhere privately. I refuse to air your tantrum for the rest of the world.”
My tantrum?
I almost laughed. “My tantrum?” I don’t know whether it was my tone or the hollow sound of my laughter, but she frowned. “Tantrum.” I lifted my splinted wrist. No way she could miss the bruise on my face. “You drop into the end of my school day to check me out of school without so much as a phone call in almost two weeks, and you want to talk about mytantrum?”
Who was this woman, and what had she done with my mother? Granted, Mom had always had her issues, but once upon a time, I held onto the absolute certainty she cared about me. This stranger in front of me offered me no such illusions.
“Oh don’t be so dramatic. You were the one who made the choice to stay, if you’d simply stopped pouting and moved with us, that wouldn’t have been an issue.”
Stopped pouting.
Her failure to communicate wouldn’t have been an issue.
“You are so full of shit,” I said, staring at her. “Do you actually believe the crap you say, or are you just putting on a show for Mr. Standish?”
Her hand flew and this time, I caught it before she connected. I had to drop my phone to do it, but I ignored it bouncing against the ground as I held her right wrist.
Mom’s eyes widened, and Mr. Standish let out a whoosh of breath as he said, “Madeline.”
She yanked her hand out of mine, and I backed up one step.
The door behind me slammed open, and Ian slid up next to me. “Everything all right?”
“No,” I said, and Mom’s eyes blazed. “It’s not. Could you get my backpack from Mr. Standish?”
“Sure,” he said as the door slammed open before it had closed all the way. Coop fell in on my right. “You got her?”
“Yep,” Coop said as Ian nodded then headed toward Mr. Standish.
“Mr. Standish, I’ll take that,” Ian said, his tone absolutely polite. “We’ve been handling taking care of Frankie, and we’ve got it.”
Mom swung her gaze from Ian to me and Coop. “You boys should be in class. This is none of your business.”
“Sorry, Ms. Curtis,” Coop stated, edging slightly ahead of me. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree. Frankie is very much our business.”
The doors popped open again, and I didn’t even have to look to know who had just arrived.
“Wow, Edward. You figured out where the school was, you should get a cookie.”