Venom (11 page)

“Spencer?” My mom's voice cuts through the pleasant atmosphere.

Oh no.
“Mom!”

“Who's this?” Mom asks when she spots Em sitting beside me at the table. “You've got yourself a girlfriend?”

The blush creeps up the back of my neck and burns its way to my scalp. Em stands up and sticks her hand out. Mom ignores it. “My name's Em. I work with Spencer at the track.”

Wrong thing to say!

Mom's lips pinch together in a tight line. She automatically reaches into her purse to fish out her pack of cigarettes.

“Angel—” Grandma warns. The pack disappears back into Mom's purse. “So what brings you here?”

“I'm here to visit my son, if you don't mind.”

It's Grandma's turn to purse her lips. I can see where Mom gets it from.

“And to find out what he plans to do about school.”

“I'm right here,” I say. “You don't have to talk about me like—” I glance over at Em. She's still smiling sweetly. There's no way to know what she's thinking.

“I'm going to ALC in September.”

“The school for bad kids?” Mom snaps back at me.

“My school,” Em says, still smiling. Her cheeks must be getting sore.

Grandma clears her throat. “They offer a good program for kids who don't quite fit into the regular system.” She glances from me to Em before adding, “They can give Spencer the extra help he needs.”

“I'll try it until Christmas,” I say. “If my grades haven't improved, I'll transfer back to Reston High.”

Mom looks less than impressed.

“And I'll quit my job.”

Mom's eyes narrow. “So if you flunk out after the first semester, you won't try to work at the track?”

“Not during the school year.”

Mom considers this. “And if you flunk out, you'll move back home with me.”

I hear Grandma take a deep breath like she's going to say something. She doesn't, though. Moving home with Mom? Over my dead body. I nod, though, as if I'm considering the possibility. “Okay. Fine.”

Mom doesn't exactly smile. She leans back in the kitchen chair. “Good.”

Grandma and I have talked a lot about how Mom might react to me changing schools. What I'm not going to tell Mom is that I'll do whatever it takes to pass. There's no way I'm going to fail anything.

Then, without warning, Mom leans over the table and reaches for me. I flinch,
thinking she's going to slap me. “Hold still,” she says. She doesn't smack me. Instead she smoothes a bit of hair away from my forehead and says, “You are so much like your father.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and she blinks. Then her phone rings, and she is instantly transported back into her other life. She pulls her hand back and snaps open the phone.

“Hi, honey, I'm just leaving now. Everything seems fine here. Yes. Yes, I'll be back soon. Oh my god! I've only been gone for—Fine. Ice cream? What flavor? Another video? But you never finished the last—”

She keeps talking as she pushes the chair back from the table, picks up her purse and heads back to her car.

When she's gone, we all let out a breath.

“So now you've met my mom,” I say to Em.

Em nods. “When do you plan to tell her you're saving up to buy a yearling at the sales next year?”

“If I value my life? Never.”

“There's a difference, you know, between being mean and being unhappy.” Em stares down at the tablecloth when she says this, almost like she doesn't want to interfere.

What she says makes sense. It's easier to think of Mom as mean and crazy, but it's probably true that she isn't very happy.

Em looks up and smiles at me. My face relaxes into a goofy grin. It strikes me that I don't have to share my mom's house, and I sure don't need to share her miserable outlook.

Em reaches over for the stack of paper on the table. “Is that the race program?” she asks.

“Sure is,” Grandma says. “So, you two, who do you like in the first?”

“No Worries Mon,” I say without hesitating. “Just because I like the name.”

If the dream of some is to run away and join the circus, mine is to run away and join life on the backside. Over the years, dozens of generous souls have opened their shedrows, endured my endless questions and tolerated my scribbling pen. To all of you who work with horses in the racing industry and who have been so helpful, thank you. Thanks, too, are due to Melissa McKee, DVM, who graciously answered my questions about snake venom. Of course, this story could not have found its way into the world without the hard work of the wonderful team at Orca. My editor, Sarah Harvey, deserves a special mention. Without her encouragement and guidance, this book would never have crossed the finish line.

Nikki Tate is the popular author of many books for children, including
Jo's Triumph
and
Jo's Journey
. Nikki (and her collection of goats, ponies, dogs, cats and assorted feathered friends) makes her home on Vancouver Island. Each year Nikki visits many schools to talk about her books, lead writing workshops and perform as a storyteller. Interested teachers can visit
www.nikkitate.com
for more information.