Silence

Chapter 26

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"I still can't believe they said that to you," Mom says incredulously. I nod with a sigh. "Honestly I can't say I'm sorry for either of them."

I shrug, wishing I could disagree with her. The two of us sit at the island in the kitchen as my mom cuts out circles in biscuit dough.

"Her face was priceless," I admit with a small smile. I still don't know how I feel about the whole thing yet. Paige and Shelby had it coming, but I can't stop thinking about what Paige said.

Admittedly, her statements ring hollow, given she doesn't know about Silent Phantom. But her words still sting. What if I didn't have these powers? Would I still be able to shrug off her remarks? I may be Silent Phantom at night, but Willow Bates is still just as timid as ever.

"I'm glad Ms. Farrell let you off the hook," Mom says, waking me from my thoughts. "I know she recommended visiting the counselor on a regular basis, but I figured you wouldn't want that. The situation being what it is, you can't really talk about it with anyone else."

I nod in agreement. Unfortunately, my parents aren't as in the loop as I wish they could be. I'm the only one who knows about my nightly crusades. Sometimes I think I might explode if I don't tell them I can fly. That's probably been the hardest thing to keep secret.

"What happened with Bridgett?" she asks.

"She has detention for the rest of the year," I answer. "Shelby and Paige only have a week."

Mom's mouth gapes for a moment.

"Unbelievable," she says, almost muttering to herself. "If they all had detention, I could handle it, but only one week? After what they said to you? I don't care who punched first, they had it coming."

I smile. I'll never forget the way Shelby stumbled back or how Bridgett leapt onto Paige the way she did.

Mom suddenly narrows her eyes and grabs my arm. She rolls up my sleeve with floury hands and sees a big bruise. My face heats up. I'm not even sure how she saw them through the sleeve. I try to look a little shocked myself.

"Where did you get this?" Her eyes are wide as she looks between me and my arm.

"I guess I got hit when I tried to pull them apart," I lie. She looks at me and looks nearly convinced. She looks at the bruises again.

"These aren't new bruises. These look like they've been there for at least a full day."

Why does Mom have to be a nurse, anyway? For a moment I'm not sure how to respond. When I've found a lie, I widen my eyes as if in realization.

"It must have been from when I hit my arm on my dresser the other day. I didn't realize it was bruised."

She looks at me for a moment, reading my face and my eyes. She seems to buy it, at least enough to let the subject rest.

"That's a pretty nasty bruise," she replies, studying them intently. "Be really careful with it. You're probably still recovering from all that... malnutrition."

The word lingers over the room. I've gained back most of the weight I lost, but my health is still on a slow incline. I've been so caught up in everything else, I almost forget I'm still recovering. My mom being who she is, never fails to remind me.