Second Chance Mom

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Rachel’s greeting earned her a drop-dead glare, then Chastity threw her book bag on the sofa and tromped off. Rachel’s excitement over their afternoon together crashed and burned.

She may be new at this parenting thing, but she’d had enough run-ins with teens at the center to know she must be firm and stand her ground. Girding herself for the encounter ahead, she rose slowly.

She walked down the hall and blocked Chastity’s bedroom door with her palm before it slammed in her face. “Chastity, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Chastity snapped back, then sat at her makeup table and turned her back.

“Listen, kiddo, I won’t tolerate disrespect. Either you adjust your attitude or all deals are off, and I’ll pack you up and move you to Atlanta today.”

The girl spun around, radiating defiance. “I’ll just run away.”

Rachel tamped down her panic. She’d learned from the counselors she’d worked with that threats to leave were often empty. She couldn’t back down again, or this would become a way for Chastity to control her. She’d have to talk tough and try to be convincing.

“If you run away I’ll report you, and if you’re lucky enough for the cops to find you before some thug rapes you or forces you into prostitution, then you’ll spend time in juvenile detention. That means you won’t be coming home to your friends. You’ll be locked up. And just so you know, asking Jessica’s family to help you would get them charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor.” At least she thought it would.

Chastity’s eyes widened, then she gulped. “You wouldn’t report me. Or them.”

“Yes, I would. I love you. Your mother entrusted me with your care. I’m going to do my best to keep you safe—by whatever means at my disposal. Stunts like the other night’s when you took off without telling me where you were going, when you’d be home or how to reach you will not be tolerated.”

“You’d be able to reach me if I had a cell phone.” More defiance, but this time with manipulation thrown in for good measure.

“I’m not rewarding you for bad behavior. If you keep this up, you’ll get the opposite—grounded for the rest of our time here.” She inhaled slowly, then exhaled, grappling for patience, strength and the right words. “Let’s try this again. What’s wrong?”

Tense silence stretched until she believed she’d have to enforce her threat. “I had a shitty day,” Chastity blurted. “And then I came home and you were packing.”

Rachel debated reprimanding her for swearing but feared it would put up another wall. “You knew we’d be packing. So what went wrong before you got here?”

Chastity slicked on a fresh coat of black nail polish. “My English teacher is having problems with her pregnancy. She has to stay in bed, so today we got our new teacher for the rest of the year. He made me look like an idiot.”

The automatic urge to defend her child roared to life. But Rachel reined it in. She needed facts first. “Was it Matt?”

“No. Mr. Gold is some fresh-out-of-school weirdo who thinks he knows everything.”

“How did he make you look foolish?”

“He made me read out loud in front of the class.”

“Reading aloud is pretty standard stuff.”

“My other teachers never make me do it. I suck at it.”

“Suck how?”

Chastity shifted restlessly and wouldn’t meet Rachel’s gaze. “I just do.”

The reaction seemed over the top. “How did acting up here solve your problem at school?”

Chastity shot her a fierce scowl but remained mute.

“If reading aloud is an issue for you, then your best bet is to speak to the teacher privately. I’ll go with you if you like.”

“No,” she answered a little too quickly. “I’ll handle it myself.”

“If you change your mind, let me know. Now, I need help getting things down from the attic before you start your homework. Please.” She tacked on the last politely but firmly, letting Chastity know her assistance wasn’t optional.

The teen sighed as if greatly put out. “I’ll mess up my nails.”

“Then you can redo them after homework. If you have time.”

Chastity followed Rachel into the hall. Rachel ignored her sullen attitude and pulled down the attic stairs. “The attic is too hot and dimly lit for us to examine the contents up there. So I’ll pass the boxes down to you. Stack them along the wall in the dining room, then later, we’ll go through them and sort the contents into keep and donate piles.”

“Whatever,” Chastity muttered with zero enthusiasm.

Rachel ascended the ladder and headed for the neat pile of boxes in the far corner. She carried them one by one across the plywood floor and handed them down without doing more than a cursory check for spiders.

When she returned with the eleventh box, Chastity was gone. “Hey! Where’d you go?” No answer. “Chastity?”

“What’s all this?” came the muffled reply, the previous belligerence missing from Chastity’s tone.