Read Online Sometimes Never, Sometimes Always by Elissa Janine Hoole - Free Book Online

and tries to smile. “It’s nothing terrible, Cassandra, honest. I just want to talk.” She hangs my backpack on the hook by the door without opening even one zipper, clearly a record. Despite what she’s saying, this has to be serious.
    “Can I get changed first?” I have to check on my hiding place. I have to be sure of the bomb she’s going to drop on me.
    She looks away, then toward the front window, and for the slightest of moments, my mother’s face looks old in the bright afternoon sunlight reflecting off the snow. She doesn’t have wrinkles, but her skin seems softer, somehow. Like it’s lost a little snap, a little glow. “Sure, honey, but hurry. I want to talk before Eric and Gavin get here. I’ll make us some hot cocoa.”
    Oh god, cocoa . Mom is always on a diet. The only time she indulges in anything even remotely resembling sugar is when she’s majorly stressed out. Like majorly. I slip away to my room and close the door behind me, leaning against the thin, hollow barrier. My eyes sweep across the room, but I don’t see anything out of place. No mess, nothing disturbed. There aren’t even any signs of her being in here for her usual activities: no clothes folded on my bed, no lingering scent of furniture polish. Pumpkin and Nutmeg are quiet and calm, hidden in their piggy tunnels. I dart over to the closet and crawl quickly to the back, where my old luggage set is stashed. Tucked one inside the other like Russian dolls, they made a perfect hiding place for the cards, which fit neatly into the smallest bag—a little purple zip-up “ditty bag” that I keep my makeup in if I stay overnight at Kayla’s house.
    I keep my eyes on the door while I stealthily unzip the outermost suitcase. My cover story is wedged into my mouth, at the ready: I was trying to hang up my dress, but it slipped off the hanger.
    This would be a way better cover story if I wasn’t still wearing the damn dress. I wiggle it off over my head and throw it into the bottom of the closet as evidence. The truth is curled up, hidden in a scandalous smother of lies.
    Zip, unzip. They’re still there. Everything is still there, untouched.
    “Cass?” Footsteps, and I straighten up, letting out my breath in a hiss. “Oh sorry, honey, didn’t realize you weren’t decent.”
    Yeah, because I told you five seconds ago that I was going to get changed. How utterly incomprehensible that I would have my clothes off. “My dress is on the floor,” I blurt. Okay, so clearly I’m brain damaged. “I mean, I … I’ll hang it back up.” Lame.
    Her eyes slide around the room. “I brought you your cocoa,” she says, and she holds the cup out as though I’m going to take it, like I’m going to stand there in my bra and underwear holding a steaming mug of cocoa.
    “Um, you can set it on my dresser, I guess,” I say. “Thank you.”
    This ridiculous mental malfunction I’ve got going on almost makes me forget my manners, which would be a grave error. I feel acutely vulnerable right now. I grope for my dress on the floor of the closet, hoping I can keep the unzipped luggage hidden, and successfully manage to hang up the dress and pull on some sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt. “That feels much better,” I say, smiling brightly as inane words continue to trip off my tongue.
    “Cassandra, is … is Eric … carnally involved ?”
    “Whaaaat?” Carnally involved? Unwanted images of that time I walked in on him and Gavin flash in front of my eyes, and my face burns. “Mom!”
    Carnally involved? I mean, really. Who says that? Who even thinks that? I shudder, trying to impress upon my mother how incredibly mortified this whole discussion is making me, but she doesn’t look at me. Instead, she sinks down right there on my pale pink carpeting and buries her face in her hands. I imagine she’s crying, though she doesn’t make any noise. Oh god. I take a step closer to her. “Mom?”
    “I found … a condom … in his trash can,”