Pencils & Polaroids

12: uninvited intruder

After blurting out to my mom that I came eyeball-to-eyeball with Archer Weston, I had to explain to her what I was doing at Rumford in the first place. And because every one of us has our own battles to deal with, she started suspecting that I was secretly hanging out with Annabeth. Then I had to swear on my life that I wasn't and to assure her that she was so much more fun than Annabeth, we decided to bake cupcakes. 

Or, she decided to bake cupcakes and I agreed to sit on the kitchen counter and watch her do it. 

As I hurriedly changed out of my uniform and into my home clothes—plain black shorts and a pastel yellow top, I heard the doorbell ring. Praying to god that it's my Amazon order and no one else, I tugged away my scrunchie, freed my hair, and gently massaged my scalp to reduce half of my stress and headache. 

"Park," my mother yelled. When she doesn't follow up with what the matter is, I wait. 

Typically, when there's silence after she calls my name, it is understood that she can't scream whatever the issue is. But the thought of her not being in a position to scream makes me want to provoke her into doing it. So like a little brat, I wait as I lean beside my door for the awkward announcement.

"Park!" This time I sense the grunt. "You know who is here?"

How the hell would I know who is at the door?

Then, I predict if she's playing a game with me. "Do you want me to guess? How many chances do I get?" 

Silence. "Rainer Barcross is here." Her voice is laced with hesitance and irritation. 

Rainer Barcross? 

Oh, that's who she meant when she said You-Know-Who!

Damn it, what the hell is he doing here I just dropped him off an hour ago.

I drop the play and walk as slowly as I can to the door. Sure enough, standing in front of my mouth just inches outside my house is Rainer in a plain black t-shirt and dark denim pants. It's unusual seeing him in anything other than the Cross Academy uniform. He almost looks like a different person—older than his age, taller than his usual frame, bulkier from those muscle cuts exposed from under the sleeve of his t-shirt, and his hair tousled messily, unlike the gelled-up spikes he maintains at school. 

"Why are you here?" I raise an eyebrow and my mother instantly pins her widened eyes at my tone and my words. 

"That is not how you talk to guests," she mumbles at me before turning to Rainer and forcing a huge welcoming smile. "I'm sorry, she doesn't mean to be rude." 

"No, I did." I scoff at the way my mother's response switched. I've fed her all that he's capable of for the last five years and with one look at him, she forgets it all.  

Her lips fold as she thinks of the many different ways she can repair the damage that I've done. 

Rainer smiles at her. "Don't worry, Mrs. Mellon. I'm a little used to this." 

"Please, call me Olivia." She tells him after she's done grinning at her newly manicured toes. 

Oh, come on. 

"If you've come here to do small talk with my mom, then have at it," I tell both of them slightly turning around. "I'll go bake some cookies." Or sit on the counter and stare at the ingredients until my mom comes back. 

My mother gives me another cautioning gaze which sets me on two strikes to correct my attitude. Little does she know I'll let the strikes reach a million and still won't change the way I treat him.