I roll my towel and dirty clothes into a ball. “What about last night?”
“I heard Carol made an announcement that you joined the Society!”
A groan builds in me. “Mom, please. Let’s not.”
“Let’s notwhat?”
I shuffle ahead of her.
She follows me, a crease between her brow. “What’s wrong, sweetie? You’ve been in a mood since last night.” She pauses. “Did you have a fight with Gunner?”
I chew on my bottom lip and look away, so mom can’t see me flinch. “How’d you find out about the Jumbotron?”
She brightens. “The video was everywhere. It was even posted on the Lucky Falls official news account.”
Oh no.Even residents who’ve moved out of town follow those accounts.
“I wish I’d gone to the game. I would have loved to see the video in person.”
“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” I mumble, padding over to the sofa. Mom converted my old bedroom into a storage unit, which is another term for ‘junk room’, so I spent the night on the couch and my back is killing me.
Mom clears her throat. “I’ll be honest. I was a little nervous about you hanging out with the Ladies. Folks like Carol Kinsey and Marjorie White… they can be…”
“Judgemental? Rude? Condescending?” I offer helpfully.
Mom gives me the side-eye. “I was going to sayintimidating.”
“Huh.” I cap my toothbrush and set it on the coffee table.
“But that video proves they accept you as one of their own.”
I snort.
Mom keeps gushing. “I really think the Society will take you places, Rebel. The Kinseys are the backbone of Lucky Falls…”
“You meantailbone,” I mumble.
“… and what with you dating Gunner and joining the Lady Luck Society, you’ll be—” Mom freezes and narrows her eyes at me. “What was that, young lady?”
“Nothing.” I force a grin. “Are you hungry? I’ll get started on some grits.”
Shuffling to the kitchen, I flare up the stove.Poor mom.It will really hurt when Carol Kinsey makes her clarification statement. I amnotlooking forward to that.
“By the way,” mom comes into the kitchen and brushes my hand away from the cupboard, “when is Gunner coming over for dinner? I bought the ingredients for pasta. He used to love my pasta when he was little.”
“He’s on a diet.” I reclaim the pan from her.
“Diet or not, he still has to eat, doesn’t he?”
I tilt my gaze to the ceiling, searching for another excuse.
“Does he not want to meet me?” Mom looks around frantically. “It’s not because the trailer’s too shabby, is it? It’s no three-story farmhouse like the Kinseys have?—”
“There’s nothing wrong with our trailer, mom. And no, that’s not why he can’t come. He’s just… busy. Yesterday, he had the game, and I bet he had training early this morning too.”
“Why is he working so hard? Don’t they get a break after a win?”
“I’ve seen how Max cracks the whip with them. He won’t let them rest until they come back with a championship.”
