Sienna closed the map book and went back to the kitchen to start dinner, embarrassed by her foolish preoccupation. If she kept this up, the next thing she knew she’d be driving past his house. She shook her head. That was so not going to happen.
She put away the groceries and got the chicken out of the freezer to defrost in the microwave. But like a terrier with a bone, her mind kept going back to Jack and his Thai green curry. If Glyneth and Rex hadn’t been coming she could have accepted his invitation. She wouldn’t have to even think about cruising slowly past like some creepy stalker—she’d be pulling into his driveway, a welcome guest.
While the chicken thawed, Sienna opened the letter from the school, thinking it was probably a notice of some event. But as she scanned the single page her heart sank. It was from the middle-school coordinator, informing her tersely that Oliver had failed to hand in assignments in three subjects—English, math and biology. Sienna breathed out hard, nostrils flaring. Olly was a smart kid; she shouldn’t be getting letters like this about him.
“Oliver!” she yelled loud enough for him to hear her in his room.
“I’m right here.” He appeared abruptly in the doorway. He’d changed out of his olive-green-and-gray school uniform into a Billabong T-shirt and blue jeans, and put fresh gel on his thick curly blond hair. He made his way into the kitchen, brushing past her on his way to the cupboard that held the water glasses. At six foot, he was already taller than her by six inches. “What’s the matter?”
She shook the letter, rustling the paper. “Mr. Kitzinger says you haven’t been turning in assignments.”
“Oh.” Glass in hand, he edged past her to help himself to water from the tap.
“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”
He drank a few gulps, then dashed the rest of the water into the sink. “I hate English, my math teacher is crap and I want to drop biology next year.”
Alarmed, Sienna rubbed her bare arms, crumpling the letter. She knew Oliver was at an age where interest in school waned, but this was the first time he’d talked about dropping science subjects. “Regardless of how you feel about your teachers or the subjects, the fact is, you have to do the work. If you don’t improve your marks, you’re never going to be accepted into university.”
He slumped against the counter, his eyebrows lowering over his deep-set gray-blue eyes. “Maybe I don’t want to go to uni.”
Sienna felt her blood go cold. “You don’t know what you want. You’re only fourteen.”
“Exactly. I’m only fourteen. So quit planning my life for me.” Pushing off the counter, Oliver went into the family room, threw himself onto the couch and switched on the TV.
“Turn if off, please.” Sienna waited, silently counting to ten. She got to eight before he did as she asked. “If you want to be a doctor you need to learn good study habits—”
“I don’t want to be a doctor. You’re the one who wants it. We’ve got enough doctors in this family already—Dad, you, Nanna and Pop.”
“When I was your age I didn’t think I wanted to be a doctor, either. I changed my mind,” Sienna told him. “You’ll change your mind, too, when you get older.”
“You don’t know that,” Oliver protested. “You think you know me, but you don’t.”
She took a breath, planning to say that of course she knew him—he was her son, her baby she’d taken care of since he was born. She knew the birthmark on his back and the way his big toe curved inward, just like hers. She knew he worried about global warming and that he liked comedy shows better than crime dramas.
Then she looked at the great big boy sitting on the couch, staring at her with a mixture of sullenness and anxiety, and her words stopped in her throat. Did she know him anymore, really? Oh, he was still her son and all those things about him were still true, but he was changing. Growing up, growing away from her. He was developing muscles and peach fuzz on his chin and a mind of his own. She no longer knew his every thought and feeling, because he no longer blurted them out as soon as he came through the door. All too soon he would be a man. Blink and he’d be gone, leaving home.
She crossed her arms over her tightened stomach. “What…what do you want to do?”
Oliver hunched his broad bony shoulders. “I don’t know. Dig ditches, maybe.”
Oh, God. Sienna felt the breath stick in her chest. He didn’t mean that—he was just trying to push her buttons. And doing a darn good job of it, too. Oliver had been in the gifted class right through primary school. He had so much potential. She had such high hopes for him. The important thing for her right now was not to overreact.
Letting her breath go, she said calmly, “Whatever you end up doing, it’s important that you finish high school. Keep your grades up, take a variety of courses and keep your options open.”
“I guess,” he said grudgingly, not looking at her.
Now that he was acquiescing, she couldn’t resist one more salvo. “Oliver, you know how strongly I feel about education. It’s a crime to have the gift of intelligence and talent and not use it to the best of your ability.”
“A crime is something that’s against the law,” said Oliver, ever the nitpicker.
Hands on her hips, Sienna shot back, “In my world, not living up to your potential is against the law.”
Oliver groaned theatrically and pushed his hands through his blond curls.
“I want you to get right in there after dinner and get busy on your homework,” Sienna added. “No MSN, no texting your friends—”
“It’s Saturday night,” Oliver complained. “I’m going to Jason’s. I’ll do the assignments this weekend.”
“Oliver—”
“I promise!”
The microwave was beeping. Sienna went back to the kitchen and removed the thawed chicken. She took out her brand-new wok and got out the chopping board, biting her tongue not to keep haranguing him. “All right. You can go to Jason’s, but you will spend the rest of the weekend catching up on your schoolwork.” Seconds ticked by. She glanced at him. “Well?”
Finally Oliver said, “Okay.” He shuffled his large feet, ruffling the area rug that overlaid the polished hardwood floor. A few more seconds passed. “Do you want to see my solar-powered robot?”
Sienna took another deep breath and released it. “Sure.”
Oliver went to his bedroom and came back with a flashlight and a weird-looking contraption made out of a computer disk with half a Ping-Pong ball and two rubber-tipped motors attached to the bottom surface. Wires ran from the motor “legs” through the central hole to an array of light sensors, he explained. The sensors were wired to a small switch and a backup battery pack. Oliver placed the robot on the floor and knelt beside it. He flicked on the switch and shone the flashlight onto the sensors.
Nothing happened.
Oliver’s fair skin flushed, the scattered pimples on his chin turning deeper red. He thrust the light closer. “Come on.”
“Give it a minute,” Sienna said.
Slowly the legs began to move up and down, the rubber tips squeaking backward over the floor. It was the oddest thing Sienna had ever seen. “That’s amazing! Did you do that in science?”
“Yeah, we had a special presentation this morning,” he said eagerly. “A guy came in and showed us how to make electronic stuff. It was way cool.” The robot crashed into the side of the couch and marched frenetically in place until Oliver pulled it away and sent it in another direction. “I need better legs for it, though. And something to make it go in reverse. Jack said the next time he’d bring more controls.”
Jack.