The Summer I Went Wild Chapter 3 Part 2
The Summer I Went Wild
Chapter Three
Part Two
My school counselor had been clear: stress was the last thing I needed if I wanted to be un-depressed. But what else was I supposed to do? The competition was around the corner, and my grades were tanking faster than Jackie Chan could do backflips.
“Just relax. Don’t push too hard,” Caleb said. “That’s why I suggested the party. Loosen up.”
He raised his eyebrows, then lowered them again, holding back.
I wanted to tell him I couldn’t feel that rush anymore—that parties didn’t do anything for me now. But I didn’t know how to say it.
“No, I’m good,” I muttered.
The door swung open and Austin stuck his head out. “Your mom’s here, Landon.”
Perfect. Another stress activator.
Mom stopping by every couple of weeks was normal—even though she had to drive three hours. She’d fill the fridge with food and snacks, and the guys treated her visits like a holiday.
The downside? They never let me forget I was apparently a mama’s boy.
“Gotta go see my mom,” I said, crushing the cigarette and grabbing mouth spray. She hated smoking. Core Christian and all that.
If I’d known she was coming, I would’ve been studying. Dressed better. Not smelling like nicotine.
I stepped into the lounge, but she wasn’t there. Her presence was, though. Containers lined the counter. Theo and Roger were eating fried rice. Even the dead flowers were gone—replaced with fresh daffodils.
“Where’s my mom?”
“Your room.”
Of course. Snooping season.
I found her sitting on the mini-couch, legs crossed, lips pinched. Clothes were scattered on my bed. Sketches littered the floor.
“Hey, Mom. I have a phone, you know.”
“Yeah,” she said coolly. “So you can smoke all day and draw irrelevant things with exams next week?”
Classic.
I changed my shirt and turned to her. “My drawings aren’t irrelevant.”
“I never said that,” she replied. “I said drawing right now is stupid because you have exams.”
My jaw tightened. “They’re not irrelevant. Exams or not.”
“And that’s why your grades are failing,” she snapped. “Because you don’t care. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position?”
Of course she knew about my grades. She always did.
“Then give them my spot and let me breathe.”
I just wanted to be an artist—even if it was only on the side.
“Start acting like an adult,” she said. “Then maybe I’d let you breathe.”
“So my passion makes me a child?”
She nodded. “Only irresponsible people let hobbies overshadow responsibility.”
“You suck,” I said. “And maybe that’s why your husband left you for another woman.”
The words landed hard.
Her face twisted in shock. I should’ve apologized. I didn’t.
Her hand struck my cheek. A loud, sharp slap.
“How dare you say that to me?”
I deserved it.
All I ever did was hurt people.
But didn’t that count for something—that I’d been hurt too?
“You’re happy he abandoned me?” she said, voice breaking. “He abandoned you, too. And I stayed. I gave you everything.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
“You say I suck,” she whispered, “but I’m the only one who’s ever been here. Just me.”