Landon’s father looked ill. His face was pasty and he twiddled his fingers with his eyes rolled toward Landon’s mom, awaiting her response.
Landon’s mom stared at the tabletop, searching the rich wood grain for some kind of inspiration or truth. Finally, she sighed and looked up at Landon’s dad. “Well, Landon is a normal boy, and normal boys are curious about these things.”
Landon’s father seemed to have swallowed his tongue. He shook his head uncertainly and gurgled.
Landon’s mom looked at Landon now.
Landon shook his head. “No. I’m not curious.”
“Landon? It’s all right,” his mom said. “It’s perfectly natural for boys your age; your father will tell you that. Forrest?”
“Uh . . . of course,” his father said.
“Mom! I did not see them on purpose!” Landon clenched his fists. “I was giving her back her stupid medal.”
“Now my medal’s stupid?” Genevieve raised her head. Her eyes were red, and she was livid.
Landon kept going. “That’s the only reason I went to her room, and I didn’t have my ears on and I didn’t hear anything or anyone and I had no idea they were even there.”
His mom removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes before looking up. “Oh . . . well . . . a misunderstanding. All of it. I’ll call the girls’ mothers and get it worked out.”
“Good luck with that.” Genevieve looked bitter, but Landon’s mom was undaunted.
“I don’t need luck,” she said. “Just persistence.”
“It’s already out there, Mom.” Genevieve groaned and lifted her phone off the table. “Katy called Landon a ‘Peeping Tom,’ and people are going wild with it. It’s a hashtag. #PeepingPowderPuff.”
“Well, every sensible person knows the internet is no place for reliable facts,” their mom said.
“Like saying President Obama wasn’t born in America.” Landon’s dad raised a finger.
Landon’s mom scowled at her husband. “Well, fools are fools, and I can’t help that. What I can help with, though, is this Katy Buford. We’ll see how long she keeps this up after I call her mother. I’ll give her a hashtag.”
Landon stood there, lost and crushed and wanting to go back to Cleveland. Kip Meyers and his friends calling him a big, fat dummy was a piece of birthday cake compared to this.
Suddenly, the phone rang. They all just stared at it.
Landon’s mom sighed. “Maybe she’s saving me the trouble of looking up her number.”
She got up slowly from her chair to answer. “Hello? Yes, this is Landon’s mother.”
His mom paused, and then her face turned angry. “What?”
Landon wondered how he could continue to sink when he’d already hit the bottom. He grabbed his cochlears and stood there, ready to pull the plug.