Morgan Is The Bomb (The M' s Series #1)

On Ice

"Morgan?!" Screeches Gail. "Where are you?"

I pop my head out my bedroom door and call out.

"How was your evening? Hopefully better than mine," she asks while I come down the stairs.

I shrug. "Nothing newsworthy. Why was your evening so terrible?" I watch as Gail takes a bottle of wine out of the fridge. She starts to pour a big glass.

"Danielle Evan-Reeves is a bitch." She swipes up her glass and I trail after her while she storms off to the living room.

"She's been gossiping about me. She has always hated me. Ever since I stole her boyfriend back when we were at Millington." Gail sinks down into her couch.

"To think! She was my good fake friend." She takes a long gulp of wine before adding, "By the way, you'll be going over to your father's house tomorrow after school."

I stop dead in my tracks. "Gail, that wasn't part of the deal."

"Well, I'm not here tomorrow and a reckless teenager can't be unsupervised." Gail throws back the last of the Merlot.

"What am I going to do, Gail? Throw a wild study session?" I give up. The kitchen requires my attention.

That  night I sleep with little comfort. I twist and turn, dreading what will happen tomorrow.

The next day is uneventful. My nerves have lessened considerably. People don't stare as much as the previous day. The teachers and student are civil. Lunch is spent in the library again. I get a B+ on a pop quiz. I'm thinking of taking up the tutoring offers, finals are in a week after all.

Kiersten teaches my books how to fly when she bumps into me purposefully. She really has something against me. Then school ends.

Low and behold, half an hour later I am sitting the car with my father, his wife and my half-siblings.

"So..." Ren turns down the music. "How is Gail' s house?"

I have to choose my words wisely. "Highly eventful."

"And school?" He asks while looking at me from the mirror.

"More difficult than I expected the difference in standard and quality to be." I look down at my nails.

"You not speak lots." Miles observes.

I smile. "Only when I'm nervous."

" Are me scary?" Miles looks at me with wide hazel eyes.

I look at him. "Yes."

"Why?" Isla turns from her position in the passenger seat.

"You have to admit these are unusual circumstances and the movies haven't made me hopeful for a happily ever after."

No had any reply to my statement.

Eager to change the subject I ask, "So what's the plan for this afternoon?"

"Well, we thought about," my father locks eyes with his wife, "a trip to the ice rink."

"Yes!" Miles can hardly contain his excitement.

Even Sol coos from her carrier.

I don't want to sound ungrateful, but I need to study. Instead I say, "I've never been to an ice rink before."

"Okay, we can go home, have a bite to eat, do a little homework and then we'll go." Ren decides.

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