Page 40 of The Rebel (Covington Prep: The Girls We Love #7)

JADE

“Rules are meant to be broken,” Valencia said right before I kissed her.

Though I’m not so sure I kissed her as we kissed each other, our lips meeting in a soft first touch.

But as I reached around the back of her neck and her hand rested on my leg, the intensity revved up, my fingers swirling at the nape of her neck, the temperature in the truck rising—and not just due to the heated seats.

Valencia’s lips were addicting but I hadn’t brought her here just for a make-out session.

I brought my hand around to the side of her face, indulging in a whiff of fragrant hair. I was reluctant to separate my lips from hers, but unfortunately, we didn’t have all day.

“Heyyyy,” I prolonged the connection as long as I could, our lips stretched until that final moment of detachment. “So, you really didn’t know your art was selected for the exhibition?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I had no idea.”

“I’m so proud of you.” I dropped a kiss on her forehead.

“Thanks.”

“I mean, really proud. Your art is incredible.”

She smiled, like she was embarrassed by my praise. “I have to see Miss Creighton after school.”

“Not another detention?” I teased.

“Nooooo!” She poked my chest. “I think she wants to talk about how to display my work, like mount them or frame them.”

“I could wait for you after school,” I turned away and scanned out the window, “or did you drive today?”

She grimaced and said in a hush, “I drove.”

“You know I can give you a ride to school, don’t you?” I said.

“Ahh, you hate that I’m driving my Mom’s car?” Her nose scrunched as she made fun of me.

“You’re not supposed to. And you don’t need to. I can take you,” I asserted. And I clarified that with, “ I want to take you, ” landing another soft kiss on her forehead.

She made a noise that sounded like a cat purring.

We walked back toward the school building both eating our protein bars. She tried to detain me from walking her to her locker, and I surmised it was because I’d heard her friends teasing her about me earlier.

“You don’t have to walk me. Your locker’s the other way.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You’ll be late to class,” she said.

“You don’t wanna be seen with me?”

“It’s not that,” she whispered, “but my friends will gossip.” She literally took a sideways step so we weren’t walking close to one another.

“They do know you’re staying at my house, right?”

“Yes,” she hissed, “and that will make the gossip even worse!” She shooed her hand at me. “Before you know it, everyone will know. Including my parents. Go that way!” She pointed down the hallway and veered off to the restroom with a grumpy face. “I’ll see you tonight.”

I couldn’t resist blowing her a kiss, and though her expression didn’t change, she did a quick action where she ‘caught’ my kiss and pressed her fingers to her lips. I assumed that once inside the door, she might have smiled.

I buzzed through the rest of the afternoon and didn’t mind Yearbook Club either.

I let Benji do most of the work and chatted with Victoria.

Valencia’s Mom’s car was still in the parking lot when I left, and tempting as it was to wait around, I decided to go home.

I’d make an excuse and go feed Volley with her later which would give us some alone time.

I wasn’t sure what Mom would make of Valencia and me as a couple.

Whoa—a couple? Was I getting ahead of myself? I hadn’t even taken her on a date yet and I’d labeled us already. What next, Prom King and Queen? Couldn’t happen, I was pretty sure juniors couldn’t be crowned. Not that it mattered, but I was rattled, totally in a flap, unable to think straight.

What would Mom think about me and her best friend’s daughter? And would Mrs. Reid think I was somehow taking advantage? If she knew we liked each other, would she send Valencia to the boarding school for the next few weeks, or worse, fly her out to Europe?

I’d talk to Valencia about it before I said anything to Mom.

Oliver was doing homework at the dining table and Mom was folding laundry when I came in. I intended to act normal, talk about school stuff (except lunch in the truck, of course), but Mom was amped up as she indicated I should take the other end of the sheet and help her fold it.

“Kristin called me earlier,” she said.

My heart immediately sunk, like somehow the gossip girls had gotten to Mrs. Reid already and Valencia was being sent away. “Oh?” I asked weakly.

Mom lowered her voice as if she was telling a secret. “They’re flying Valencia out to meet them.”

Now my heart stuttered, missing a bunch of beats. Parking lot cameras maybe? Had we been caught in action? I had no words, not one sound to utter.

“Paris is missing her so much. Well, they all are. But Paris wants Valencia with them, so she’s flying out tomorrow.”

“To—tomorrow? Does she know?”

“Not yet,” Mom said, urging me to make another fold. “Kristin had an email from Principal Portman about the art exhibition. Strangely, Valencia never told her she’d been selected and they’d been talking earlier today.”

“Valencia only found out this morning in assembly,” I said, but I remembered she’d phoned her Mom during lunch break.

“Paris isn’t coping without her,” Mom said. “He misses his sister.”

I had a weird thought that I was going to miss her too. “How long will she be gone?”

“There’s three weeks of the tour left,” Mom said, checking her watch. “I guess she’ll be feeding Volley at the moment.”

I nodded, stunned at this new development.

In a way, it would be good for Valencia to be with her family, but heck, I needed her too.

Our relationship was new and exciting and it didn’t seem fair that we’d have to put it all on hold.

Then again, it might actually be a good thing.

Nobody would be comfortable with us living in the same house and being together—so maybe the timing was perfect.

Mom tutted at my uneven corners just as Valencia bounded in the front door like she was on the run from a stampeding bull.

Panting, she took a second to catch her breath before saying in choppy sentences, “Volley’s missing. I can’t. Find him. He hasn’t come and I’ve been...calling for ten minutes.”

“I’ll come,” I said, tossing my end of the roughly folded sheet over to Mom. Hearing the commotion, Ollie joined us.

We scrambled across the fence. Valencia had left the back door wide open.

“I’ve called him a hundred times,” she said, eyes glistening with tears. I had a sudden thought that I needed to find Volley at all costs, because there was no way Valencia would get on a plane if she didn’t know he was safe.

Ollie picked up the dry food canister and headed out into the backyard shaking it.

“Maybe he’s trapped in a room. Or a closet?

Have the doors been closed or blown shut?

” It was a ridiculous thing to suggest, as if the wind would come inside the house.

“Let’s try every room, every door. He has to be here somewhere,” I said reassuringly, and knowing Ollie was out of sight, I wrapped my arms around her, kissing her forehead—again. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him.”

Her dark eyes looked up to me as if I was her knight in shining armor, but now the pressure was on, preferably to find him alive and well.

“You fed him this morning, right?” I asked, tucking a strand of hair off of her face. Geez, I had a fixation with touching her!

“Yep.” She didn’t seem to mind the attention. “He’s been sleeping in a spot by the window,” she said, striding into the dining room, calling in desperation, “Volley! Volley? Where are you?”

We opened every door, looked behind every curtain, even in the bathtub. Ollie returned with no joy and we all walked down the driveway out to the sidewalk, no one saying aloud what we feared the most—a squished cat on the road.

I had no qualms holding Valencia’s hand, not with the worry etched on her face. Ollie would think I was comforting her.

“Let’s retrace your steps,” I said. “He couldn’t be in the garage, could he?”

“No, I drove in and went straight out to the laundry room to get his food. Well, I stopped in the kitchen to put my backpack down first,” she said.

“Okay, and there was no sign of him when you called out?” We stood in the kitchen, all looking to the door that led to the laundry room as if we could manifest Volley to appear.

“He normally comes running as soon as he hears me,” Valencia said. “I usually don’t even have to call.”

“C’mon, let’s do it then,” Oliver said.

“Do what?” Valencia and I asked at the same time.

“You said we’d retrace her steps. We’ll be like detectives and act out the scene.”

“O-kay,” I said, not wanting to dampen Oliver’s enthusiasm, though I hadn’t intended it literally.

Valencia was willing to be compliant and Ollie pulled her by the hand, meaning she let go of mine. I followed as they headed along the hallway to the garage access door.

“So, you drove your mom’s car into the garage, right?” Ollie sounded like a tv detective asking questions.

Valencia opened the door and the light went on.

“I got out of the car with my backpack and locked the car,” she said, playing along with Ollie’s little charade, taking the steps from the car door to the door we’d all entered.

“And I walked along the hallway.” We both followed her back to the kitchen we’d been just a minute ago.

She pretended to take a backpack off her shoulders and acted putting it on the counter, where her backpack was.

Then she gasped as she touched her art folder beneath the backpack, turning to Ollie. “That’s right, I went back into the garage to get my folder. It was in the backseat.”

“Maybe Volley got locked in when you went back,” Ollie quickly deducted, and we made a mad dash back to the garage.

“Sometimes he goes up in the rafters,” Valencia was saying. “He might be stuck.”

There were three different pitches all shouting Volley’s name, but no sign of the cat.

“Shhhhh,” I ordered, “let’s listen, see if we can hear him.”