Unbullied

Chapter 5

Chapter 5When Mom got home, two hours later, Charlie was still in her room in a shell-shocked daze. She couldn't stop obsessing about the events of the day and their implications--the possibilities they'd set in motion.

There wasn't much doubt that she'd moved to the top of Conscience's hit list...unless he was just screwing with her, ramping up her fear to boost his buzz. Even if that was true, and she and her family weren't in imminent danger, one disturbing fact loomed large in her mind: Conscience had been in her house. In her room. He'd been in all their rooms, planting his little notes.

Which meant he could come and go as he pleased. Just thinking about that made her shudder uncontrollably.

And it brought another thought to the surface, blinking in blazing neon: What next? What would Conscience's next move be? And what could Charlie possibly do to counter it?

The same answer kept coming back to her, the same answer she'd been getting for the past six weeks: nothing. She could do nothing.

Maybe it was just as well when Mom stomped down the hall and barged in on her, breaking her hopeless train of thought.

"Charlie!" Mom was livid--face flushed, eyes wide with anger. She'd marched straight to Charlie's room without changing out of the navy blue blazer and skirt and white blouse she'd worn to work that day. "What's this about you running out of school?"

Charlie winced. She'd been through enough without taking heat from Mom...though it wasn't exactly unexpected. "They called you at work?"

"Vice Principal Driscoll texted me." Mom planted her hands on her hips. Strands of jet black hair strayed from her tightly styled hairdo and fluttered around her face. "He said you left sick and never came back."

"I was sick," said Charlie. "I am sick."

"So you go to the nurse, Charlotte. You don't just walk out."

The use of her hated full name went straight to Charlie's last nerve. "I had to get out of there," snapped Charlie. "I told the Vice Principal. He didn't have to make a big production out of it."

"He was worried about you!" Mom flung up her hands and chopped the air with them. "Then I was, too! But by the time he texted me, I was in the middle of an important presentation and couldn't leave. So I was stuck there, and the whole time, I kept wondering if you were alive or dead!"

The same thing I wondered about you and Tim when I raced home in the first place. "You shouldn't have. I'm old enough to take care of myself."

"Maybe so." Mom narrowed her eyes and jabbed a finger at her. "But you can't. As long as you're a sixteen-year-old minor, there are rules you have to follow. Such as, no more cutting school!"

Charlie swung her legs over the side of the bed and shot to her feet. "But I already told you, I left because I was sick." It wasn't fair. If she told Mom the real reason she left school, they wouldn't be having this conversation. Unfortunately, the conversation they would be having would be much more stressful.

Mom stepped forward so their faces were almost touching. "You'll notice I'm not asking how you got home today." She raised one carefully groomed black eyebrow and lowered her voice. "I'm also not asking if anyone else was here with you, Charlotte."

Charlie wanted to lay into her with cannons blazing. Mom had no idea--no idea--what she'd been going through. How dare she throw around accusations like that?

"Nobody was here," hissed Charlie. "Not that it's any of your business."

"No boys in the house if I'm not here," said Mom. "That's a rule, and you know it."

Boys were the last thing on Charlie's mind these days, but Mom's comment still burned her. The life or death of the entire family was on Charlie's shoulders; she didn't deserve not to be trusted.

She tensed. She felt the urge to lash out...but then she realized that the one she really wanted to lash out at wasn't there. Conscience was the bad guy in this picture, not Mom.

So Charlie backed off and sat down on the bed. "Whatever." Though she still didn't give Mom the satisfaction of apologizing up and down.

Mom backed off a little, too. The tone of her voice softened. "At least call me if you need to leave, okay? Just call or text me."

"You won't have time." It was true. After the divorce from Dad a year ago, Mom had become a workaholic. She might not have an important presentation every day, but there was always something. And on top of that, she brought work home with her almost every night.

"I'll figure it out." Frowning, Mom stepped forward and touched Charlie's cheek. "So maybe that's why you haven't been yourself lately, huh? You've been sick."

Charlie shrugged. Not even close.

"Maybe you've got a touch of mono." Mom placed the back of her hand against Charlie's forehead. "We'll make an appointment with Dr. Greer if you don't feel better soon."

It wouldn't do any good, since Charlie was pretty sure Greer didn't have much experience in dealing with anonymous psychopathic murderers. But she nodded anyway.

Mom pulled her hand away. "Why don't you lie down for a little while? Dinner's not for another half-hour or so."

"Thanks." Charlie lay back and rolled over to face the wall.

"I'll knock when it's ready." With that, Mom eased her way out of the room and closed the door gently behind her.

When Charlie heard the latch clack shut, she let out a sigh of relief. Before Conscience, her relationship with her mother had been relatively smooth. They'd gotten closer since Dad left, turning to each other for the extra support they needed to muddle through.

But every interaction was full of strain now, seething with things unsaid. Charlie was pulling away, and not just because of the secrets and distractions that were plaguing her. Not just because Mom seemed to sense that she was hiding something and grew more determined to dig it up.

Charlie, though she was not completely aware of it herself, was distancing herself from Mom, in part, in case she lost her.