Page 11 of The Rebel (Covington Prep: The Girls We Love #7)
The thump in my chest got louder, to deafening levels.
Mom’s mouth continued to open, but I couldn’t hear any words.
I was stuck on Dani’s happy to have you stay.
Sure, I liked Dani, liked her a lot, and she fed Volley when we were away and she was Jade and Oliver’s mom, but I’d never stayed at the Sinclair house before. Never, ever.
“No!” I wouldn’t be surprised if the ferocious shout from my mouth projected all the way across our backyard to the Sinclairs’ house. “No!”
Mom jolted, shifting forward on my bed.
“I’m not staying at the Sinclairs. For a month? Are you crazy?” I bounced up off of my bed, scaring Volley who shot out of the room. I was tempted to dash out with him, but this was my sanctuary. Mom was the one who needed to go.
“Valencia!” Mom breathed my name in exasperation. “It’s only for a month.”
“Only a month? You just said a month is a long time and now you’re saying it’s only a month. Make your mind up!”
Mom’s head shook from side to side but she spoke in a deliberate and calm manner, “Dad and I decided it would be too much school for you to miss. And it’s an intense schedule for Paris. There’s a lot of traveling. Paris doesn’t need the distraction.”
“It’s all about Paris, isn’t it?” I shouted.
Mom looked flummoxed, her brow creasing. “Well, yes, this is a fantastic opportunity for him. To see if he can adjust to life on the tour, he’ll need to...”
But I was already picturing being left behind, flashes of Mom, Dad and Paris traveling to Europe without me. “Unbelievable!” My heart thumped against my rib cage. “I mean, everything is always about Paris. My whole life. It’s all about him and what he wants.”
Mom’s frown grew deeper. “Well, yes,” she said with an annoying calmness which made me sound like an unhinged maniac. “At this stage, Paris is working hard on his career. Of course, we’re going to support him wherever we can. This is what he’s been working toward.”
I braced myself, hugging my arms across my chest in an indignant manner. Mom had just admitted that Paris was everything. I couldn’t look at her, especially as a flood of tears threatened.
“It’s always about Paris,” I tried to shout but my voice was weak and wobbly, my chin trembling and letting me down. “Don’t worry about me. Just leave me behind.”
“Honey,” Mom soothed as she reached out to me.
I shrugged and turned away, refusing to be taken in by her fake affection.
“Dad and I think it’s for the best if you keep up with school.
It’s not about leaving you behind,” she said.
“And the time will absolutely fly by. We’ll be back before you know it. ”
She hovered over me, but I continued to block her out, keeping my back to her. Suddenly everything in my world was crumbling—my best friend had a boyfriend and now my parents were following Paris to the other side of the world without me.
Dad announced his entrance by clearing his throat. “Everything all right, girls?”
I turned to see him in the doorway and ran over, throwing myself at him and burrowing into his chest.
“Hey, hey, what’s this?” he said, his hand stroking the top of my head.
“ She’s leaving me behind,” I cried, a heavy emphasis on Mom’s wrong-doing.
Dad chuckled, which was not the reaction I expected. I pulled back and glowered up at him. This wasn’t a joke, being left with the Sinclairs was no laughing matter.
“Poppet.” Dad gently placed his hands on my shoulders, his expression serious. “Sweetie, it’s not about leaving you behind. This isn’t a vacation. We’re not going on a sightseeing tour.”
“Yes, it’s work,” Mom jumped in, abandoning the soft and serene approach, no doubt spurred by Dad’s presence. “And it’s going to be a grueling schedule for Paris. We want to be able to support him in this.”
“This is a great opportunity for Paris to get a taste of life on the tour,” Dad said, “and his agent thinks having us along will benefit him. Like we said, it’s only for month.”
My heart sunk, Dad, usually my ally, I now viewed as a traitor.
“But why do you have to go?” I said, adopting a pity plea with downcast eyes and a pout.
I understood that Mom was Paris’s physical therapist, but Dad had no coaching or training role with Paris.
He didn’t have to go on tour with him. He could stay at home with me, instead of sending me to the neighbor’s house.
“Poppet,” Dad said, blowing out a strained breath, “we want to be there for Paris. There will be other chances for you to come on tour, but for now, you need to stay in school.”
“But Paris needs me, too. I help with his food and drink prep,” I said, desperate to persuade them to change their minds. At tournaments, it was my job to make sure Paris had all his favorite foods and supplements while playing.
“Yes, and he appreciates that,” Dad said, “but this time round, this is the best thing for everyone.”
“Best for Paris,” I muttered.
“Best for Paris, best for you,” Dad said with a finality that told me that nothing was going to change, that no amount of begging, pleading or crying would sway their decision.
He drew me in for a hug, but I pushed against his chest, turning away and storming across to my bathroom, slamming the door so hard that the shower door rattled.
Stunned and confused, I stood with my back against the door for a moment before sliding down the tiles, hugging my knees to my chest.
How was it that in a blink of an eye my life had changed so much?
Because no matter that Gabby had said nothing would change now that she was dating Scott, I wasn’t naive enough to know it already had.
Scott was at her house eating dinner, doing homework together, when it should have been me.
They were probably crooning songs of love into each other’s ears and eating chocolate brownies.
And now my parents were about to ditch me to join Paris in Europe. Not that I should be surprised by it. Paris was the number one child, the one the world revolved around. And up till now, I’d always been a part of everything, always included in my brother’s journey to the big time.
But it seemed like that was no longer the case.
And that left a wide, gaping hole in my heart.