I let the blinds fall as softly as I could and pulled my fleece blanket up to my chin as she fumbled with the keys outside the front door. A car door shut, an engine turned. A light popping sound filled the air as he backed out of our driveway—the aged, loose asphalt throwing pebbles under his tires.
My bedroom door stood right off the main foyer. Her heels clipped across our faded hardwood until she poked her head in. She whispered, “Holls? You up?”
I clenched my fist, squeezing the fleece. I willed my breathing to calm, my eyelids to stop fluttering. I faked a sleepy moan and turned my head into the pillow.
Silence.
“Hollie?”
More silence.
Then a long relieved sigh as my door quietly shut.
Certain my beloved family was about to blow to smithereens, I cried myself to sleep.
“Sit down please.” Mom motioned to the couch opposite where her and Dad sat on our faded, floral love seat.
“Can’t.” I swooped my duffle strap over my shoulder and flashed her my car keys. “I’m meeting everyone at the Handlebar.”
“Dance can wait.” Mom’s brown eyes flared at my challenge.
I opened my mouth to talk back, but let it snap shut because of Dad. If he wasn’t there, I would’ve charged out that front door.
I didn’t sit down. My response was sharp. “What?”
Dad chimed in, his soft blue eyes stern. “There’s no need to talk to your mom like that.”
I huffed. There was definitely aneed. All things considered, I was being pretty damn nice because I’d seen that business-suit guy five times in the last two months and seen his silver BMW parked around the corner double that many times.
My mediocre grades were plummeting. I was a nervous wreck. I kept biting my siblings heads off, screaming at them for doing things that made life feel more chaotic. I hadn’t had a functional conversation with my mother in weeks. I’d been grounded and had my keys taken away. But I didn’t know how to act right when a horrible secret strangled me. I was terrified of what would happen if I told my dad what I saw. Or told my mother that I knew. What if my family fell apart? What if three of my siblings went with mom, and three went with dad?
So I bottled it up.
My mind was a prison. And the only thing that made me feel good was dancing. I danced more hours those last two months than I did the entire previous year. My feet were blistered and I’d worn down my best pair of tennis shoes, but the minor discomforts acted like a buffer, protecting my heart from the real pain—the horrible truth that I would have to blow the lid on this thing.
I couldn’t keep it buried forever.
I blinked, rolling my tongue in my cheek. “Yes, Mom?” My tone was no better, but they couldn’t pry a respectful tone out of me with pliers and threats of death.
“We have to talk about your attitude. And your grades.” She pressed her lips together, fighting her own rage. “I’m afraid it’s all this time spent dancing.”
“Hollie,” Dad warned. “We’re concerned about you.”
“You don’t need to be,” I bit out. “Dancing is the thing that makes me happy.”
“And that’s a problem,” Mom said. She went on a spiel about responsibilities and blah, blah, blah. I gaped at her. Was she deaf?Could she not hear her hypocrisy? “Life isn’t about doing what makes us happy all the time.”
“It isn’t?” I blurted, staring right at her. “That’s funny, because last I checked, you do whatever makes you happy. So why can’t I?”
Mom’s brow furrowed in confusion as Dad came to her defense. “Hollie, what has gotten into you? We do not speak to each other like that.”
The truth beat so loud against the door of my heart that it spewed out like lava. “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask Mom’sfriend?” The words scorched my lips as they escaped. But the way her face twisted—the immediate waves of disbelief, horror, fear, and regret—cooled the burn. As her eyes filled with tears of betrayal, I knew I would never have a relationship with Lynn Thompson again.
What goes around comes around.
She was a good mom. There were many things I loved about her, even admired, but nothing could make me overlook something this egregious. My lips twitched as we stared each other down.
Dad scrunched his nose in confusion. “What friend?”
