Rodent Read Online Free Page B

chooses each word carefully. “Your principal called.” Takes a breath. “He said you can go back on Monday, but he wants to see you in his office before your first class.”
    “Okay.” I can tell she wants to say more.
    “Isabelle.” She clears her croaky throat. I know what’s coming. I don’t want to hear any apologies today about her being a bad mother or not giving us what we deserve. As she continues to be a bad mother and not give us what we deserve. Not today.
    “Don’t, Mother ,” I say, marching past her.
    She lays her head on the table.
    The moment I slam the bedroom door, that guilt bubbles up. I have the impulse to rush back and hug her, like I did when I was Maisie’s age. Can’t remember the last time I was hugged by anyone other than Maisie and Evan. Or that drunk guy at Jacquie’s birthday party, who I had to knee in the balls to get away from.
    No. She made this bed. This bed of vomit and piss and dirty sheets. Let her lie in it.
    A minute later I hear the shower run.
    * * *
    Over the weekend, I stay glued to Mom.
    “Stop it, Isabelle,” she says during dinner on Saturday, watching my eyes follow the beer bottle to her mouth. “I’m allowed to have a drink.”
    Later, when she’s taking too long in the bathroom, I burst in without knocking. She’s on the toilet, reading a mystery novel, and scrambles to cover herself. Like I haven’t seen it all a million times.
    “Cut it out!” She shoves me from the bathroom, pants still around her ankles. The lock clicks behind her.
    Still, she makes it to work both nights.
    * * *
    On Monday morning, my stomach flutters as I wind through the hallway on my way to Mr. Talmage’s office. Because of the weekend after my two-day suspension, it feels like I’ve been away a while.
    I keep my eyes peeled for the squinty blond and her friends but don’t see anyone I recognize. Might as well get the bowing and scraping over with so I can get on with this year and get the hell out.
    Mr. Talmage’s door is shut, muffled voices inside. Who’s with him? I knock. His hulking frame fills the doorway. He looks down at me like I’m a used Band-Aid on his breakfast plate.
    “Miss Bennett,” he says. “Come in.”
    As he pushes the door open wider, I see her in one of the wooden chairs. The blond. And she has an impressive bruise. I don’t know whether to be proud or ashamed. She looks up at me. I look away.
    Mr. Talmage gestures to an empty chair beside her. We both stare straight ahead, although I’m close enough to smell her fruity shampoo.
    “Miss Bennett and I have discussed the inappropriateness of her actions,” Mr. Talmage says, leaning toward the blond, “but I think she should know more about her victim.”
    Victim? He makes me sound like a serial killer.
    He looks me in the eye and gestures toward her. “Ainsley is an honors student and an active member of our students’ union. She has participated in fundraising for the food bank, after-school programs and jerseys for our sports teams.” The man has actually made a list. He inhales slowly to give me time to admire the wonder that is Ainsley.
    “She plays on the volleyball team and is president of the Art Club.” Is this winding up anytime soon? “She is an asset to our school.” And another word I can think of beginning with a . “Is there something you would like to say to Ainsley?” he says. I bite my tongue. In the silence, he prompts, “I think you owe Ainsley an apology, Isabelle.”
    Ainsley, who’s been sitting with her hands folded in her lap like a sainted nun up to this point, turns her pale face toward me, eyes open wide, and blinks.
    I wonder how long we’ll sit here if I say nothing at all. I mean, really, I have all day. That dark cloud of what if moves in my mind, always ending up at those two small faces. As much as this place is a dump, it’s right across from Maisie’s school. Being at another school wouldn’t work as well.
    I steel myself, look into her piggy