Foes & Cons by Carrie Aarons (i am malala young readers edition .txt) 📗

not anywhere near seasonably appropriate, and she’s wearing five-hundred-dollar Golden Goose sneakers on her feet. I’m kind of ashamed to resemble her, even though my vanity and materialism will never reach the height of hers.

“Oh, did anyone make breakfast? Maybe some overnight oats, or a protein pancake?” she asks, looking at Dad and I like we’re her butlers.

“Cereal is in the pantry, or there are eggs you can make yourself in the fridge.” I point to both.

My mother frowns. “Hm, I thought someone would have prepared the meal.”

Right, because this is a hotel?

“Breakfast was technically three hours ago, when Blair and I cooked sausage, egg, and cheese biscuits together. It’s lunch, and I think you’re capable of making something.” Dad doesn’t exactly snap at her, but I can feel his passive-aggressiveness.

Mom looks like he just pissed in her Wheaties, not that she’d eat that many carbs. “I’ll just grab some carrots.”

She roots around in the fridge and comes out with one tiny carrot. So she hasn’t eaten all day, and this is going to be her meal? I thank the Fates a lot for keeping her out of my life while I was growing up, but I send them some more praise. So many girls I know grow up with disordered eating or dieting because of their mothers, and I could have been seriously affected by what clearly is an obsession for this woman.

“But for dinner, I thought we could go eat at Sal’s. It was always our favorite place,” Dad suggests, and it kills me that there is a tinge of hope in his voice.

“A diner? Nothing there would be on my approved diet. So don’t feel bad going without me.” She grins.

Suspicion churns in my gut. “Why don’t you just come with us and have a water with lemon, then?”

My mom picks at a nonexistent piece of lint on her Lululemon sherpa pullover. “That’s all right. I think I’m just going to meet up with some old friends here.”

“Which ones?” Dad asks, and it’s not his usual good-natured tone.

“Oh, you probably don’t remember them.” She waves a hand at him.

“You’re going to meet them for dinner?” It’s only when I look past her, into the living room, that I notice her bags sitting by the front door.

“We may stay out for drinks after, I’m not sure.” She looks uneasy with both of us pressing her for details, and I know she’s lying.

Her default mode is lying, so I should have expected this.

“Why are your bags packed?” I shoot her a glare.

Shifty eyes, twisting the boho rings on her fingers, nervous smile … all telltale signs.

“Well, a few industry friends pulled some strings and got me into this three-day fitness retreat in the Hamptons. I’ll be teaching a hot yoga class to some really experienced students and rubbing elbows with a lot of influential people in my space. This is a really big deal for me. You two should be happy for me.”

Only someone who has no self-awareness tells others that they should be happy for them.

“You’ve been here for less than twenty-four hours, Jessica.”

My father is a kind man. He’s typically always happy and never raises his voice. No, it’s when he gets deadly quiet and monotone that you should be worried. That’s how he sounds now, and I know he’s about to unleash on her.

“And I’ve spent some great quality time with you two!” Her fake valley girl accent makes me cringe.

Then again, so does her delusion. I mean, she really believes the crap she’s trying to sell.

Dad slaps a palm to his forehead, and I stay silent. I learned long ago that there is nothing you can say to this woman.

“You have a daughter, are you aware of that? A beautiful, smart, wonderful child that you left years ago and have barely made time to see. How the hell is that possible? What kind of ugly human being are you that you can’t see how precious she is? What is so wrong with you that you don’t want an active part in her life?”

Dad’s voice is scary calm, and it’s even worse than if he was screaming.

“This is very unfair of you, Todd. I took the time to come see you both, and now you’re throwing it in my face.”

“You haven’t … this is the first time in years you’ve—” Dad growls in frustration, but cuts himself off from making any more valid points. “Just go, Jessica.”

She frowns, then looks to me. “It was so good to see you, baby. You’ve gotten so pretty.”

I roll my eyes even though my heart is breaking. I shouldn’t be affected by her cruelty, her self-centered attitude, but I can’t help it. I’m predisposed to want her love.

Just as quickly as she arrived, she’s gone. It feels like a fever dream that she was even here in the first place, but the silence she leaves behind is deafening.

“I’m so sorry, honey.” Dad comes over and wraps me in his arms.

Despite trying to tell myself it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t matter; I feel the tears leak onto his sweatshirt. This is the second blow I’ve been dealt in less than a week, so that’s why it probably feels more intense. By this point, I should be used to my mother’s antics. But couple her bullshit visit with what Sawyer did to me on New Year’s Eve, and it feels like the world is out to get me.

As my father holds me, I weep for more than just the shitty biological mother I was given. The crying is more for the humiliation I feel from being taken advantage of by Sawyer and Hailey.

How the hell could I have fallen into a trap like that? How could I have not seen it?

What makes it worse are all of the sweet words he whispered to me right before she burst in. I can’t get them out of my head, I can’t forget the feeling of his hands on me or the way his eyes