Mrs. Zhou's POV
Aiden's number glares tauntingly at me in the screen of my phone. I want to call him so badly, but after the way I've treated him lately, I wouldn't be surprised if he decided not to talk to me again. I toss the phone on the couch. It's not like I haven't deserved it. What was I thinking, listening to some silly girl over my flesh and blood. Everytime I rewatch the video of Jessica's arrest, I don't see the innocent face of who she pretended she was, I see the angry, psychotic face of a monster. And my son...just lying there in the corner, blood surrounding him. I don't even know whether he's alive or not. Glen, my husband, sits down next to me on the piano bench.
"I'm sure he's still out there, Bridget," he says, trying to console me.
"But what if he never wants to come back home? I can't say I blame him. I should've known from the look on his face that something was wrong. I can't believe I let Jessica take advantage of him."
"She fooled all of us, Bridge. But now's your chance to make things right with him. The trial's coming up in a few days. We'll see if Aiden shows up and we can apologize to him."
"Glen," I sniff. "I promised I'd believe him from now on...but I broke that promise. He has every right to hate me."
I look along the grand piano where Aiden would sit for hours in a day practicing. On the top are various pictures and awards he's earned over the years. I pick up a picture of him, at a tender age of 7 after one of his concerts. He looked so happy and innocent as the audience showered him with applause.
"Mom!" he exclaimed, rushing off the stage to give me and Glen a hug. "They liked it...they really liked it."
I brushed a kiss on both of his cheeks and beam at him. He smiled and started to blush.
"Yes, they did, precious," I gushed, ruffling his hair. The students, parents and teachers were just astounded by Aiden's talent. There's even some talk about him being recruited by talent agents. Like I'd let anyone poach my baby to take advantage of him. "We're both very proud of you."
A formally dressed man with his wife and small child approached us. Glen held out his hand for a polite handshake.
"Mr. Parker, how nice to see you again," he said. Mr. Parker looked at Glen's outstretched hand like it would bite, but gave him a firm handshake.
"I wish I could say the same," he sneered. His wife (whom I swear is from Latin America) elbowed him. "I mean, the pleasure's mine."
The child (I can't tell if it's a boy or girl.) peeked out from behind them and smiled at Aiden. Aiden walks over to give him/her a hug.
"Jay, you made it!" he said. The child blushed and warmly returned the exchange. Mr. Parker looked like he wanted to wrench the two of them apart, but he composed himself and let it slide.
"Jayda…"he warned. "What have I told you about getting too close and personal with….people?"
I didn't like the way he said people, but I didn't want to cause a scene. The girl pouted and let go of Aiden.
"He's my friend," she protested.
I almost missed him mutter, "You wish."
"So, um," Glen tries to salvage the conversation. "What did you think of our son's performance?"
"Impressive. But my eldest daughter can play at least 5 different instruments. To each their own, I guess."
The smile on Aiden's face dimmed a little.
"That's...uh...cool…" he muttered. The girl glared at her father.
"Daddy!" She chided before turning to Aiden. "That was amazing, Aiden. I loved it."
Aiden's smile returned and he started to blush.
"Well, my son Aiden's a remarkable student and we're so proud of how far he's come at such a young age," I defended him, ruffling his hair. "And it's pretty sad how you have to rely on your daughter's achievements to feel like you're worth something."
The man scowled and pulled his daughter and wife away.
In the car, Aiden was silent for the longest time, clutching his trumpet.
Then, he piped up, "Does Jay's dad hate me?"
"No, precious," I answered. Truth was, I wasn't a stranger to people acting the way that man did. Too bad Aiden had to experience it first-hand.
"Is...is my trumpet playing bad? I could practice more. I could practice tons of instruments-"
"Aiden…" I said. "You are already an extraordinary child. Any parent would be lucky to have you, no matter what Jayda's dad says."
"Actually, she likes to be called Jay," he corrected me. "She said something about it being more fitting for her."
"Ok, Jay it is. Now, do you want some peppermint tea when we get home?"
"Yes please!"
Glen taps my shoulder.
"You've been staring at that picture for 10 minutes, Bridget," he reminds me. I wipe away my tears.
"Glen, he's always felt like he wasn't good enough...I should've seen something was wrong."
"Call him."
"What if he won't pick up?"
"You have to try to reach him. He's been gone for almost two weeks. I'm sure he's cooled down by now."
He hands me the phone. I dial Aiden's number.
It rings…
It rings…
It rings…
"Mom?" He says, his voice a little hoarse and shaky.
"Aiden?"
There's an awkward silence over the phone.
"I'm so sorry," we say at the same time.
"Sorry? For what, Aiden?"
"I shouldn't have blown you off a week ago."
"I should've listened to you more and put two and two together," I say. "I would've never put you through such hell if I'd known."
"It's ok, Mom. We were both fooled," he admits before launching into a fit of coughs and dry heaves. "I've been a little sick, as of late."
"A little?" Someone says in the background. Aiden hastily shushes them.
"Who's that?" I ask.
"Uh...You remember Jay from elementary and middle school?"
"Yeah?"
"That was him…"
"Him? I thought...oh...Oh! Duh! Made much more sense. Where are you?"
"We're at a shelter. He's my...my boyfriend."
"...Aiden, that's nothing to be ashamed of. As long as he's treating you right, I don't care who you're dating."
"So...the trial's coming up in a few days...are you coming?"
"Of course. I have a few choice words for that monster who hurt my son and his friends. Please be safe and I hope you come back home soon."
"...I'll think about it. Bye, Mom."
"Bye, Precious."
He hangs up. Glen looks at me expectantly.
"Well?" He asks.
"Well, he isn't mad anymore...but he said he'll think about coming back. I guess we have to wait until the trial…"
(Sneak Peek of Next Chapter)
Ace's POV
"Guys?" Wes says. "You might want to look at the TV."
"A brave soul like yourself, tell the audience about your side of the story," An older woman waves a microphone in front of Jessica. Fuck my life.
"Well, it's no secret that Rose and her friends have been making my life a living hell. If only I knew what made her so hateful towards me. It all started when she came to Oliver Berry High," Jessica sniffles.
