Macy huffs, grabbing my phone and tossing it into my lap.
“Just text him. Do it.”
The phone feels heavy, like Macy has handed me a grenade instead of a lifeline. I stare at the screen, fingers and thumbs twitching to type something. Right as I begin my message to Easton, there’s a knock on my bedroom door.
We both jump.
“Uh, come in,” I call out, exchanging looks with Macy.
My mom sticks her head in the door and my heart leaps into my throat. I’ve been avoiding her all day, hoping she won’t notice how obviously upset I am, and now here she is. I hope she doesn’t say anything in front of Macy.
The door creaks all the way open.
“Hey, girls.” Mom gazes around the room as if she’s half expecting more people to appear. Boys? From the closet, perhaps?
She clears her throat. “Macy, do you mind if I speak to Harper for a minute?”
She doesn’t step inside, instead waiting in the doorway, arms crossed in that way that makes me feel like I’m back in elementary school being scolded for coloring on the wall behind my bedroom door.
“I, uh—have to go to the bathroom,” My best friend mumbles, scrambling to stand and grabbing her cell. Macy looks at me apologetically before making a beeline for the door. “Be right back.”
My mom steps aside to let her pass, then closes the door gently, trapping me in the room with her.
She raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable as she begins, “Do you want to explain why you were crying when you got home from school? Or why you’ve been hiding up here for the past few hours?”
I swallow hard, heart pounding in my throat. “Mom, I—”
“I love that you have Macy to tell your secrets to.” She cuts me off, not giving me the me chance to explain. “But I’m your mother. If something is hurting you, I want you to know you can trust me. Does this have to do with the boy who’s been coming over to work on prom decorations with you?”
“Easton,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
Her brow furrows. “What?”
“His name is Easton,” I say quietly, staring at my hands. “And there’s nothing going on between us except prom committee.”
Mom raises her brows, clearly not buying my lie. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and start again. “We’re not a couple or anything. He’s my friend; that’s it.”
She purses her lips, unconvinced. “Maybe not,” she says carefully. “But that’s not really the point, is it?”
I frown, crossing my arms defiantly. “What do you mean? Whatisthe point?”
She sighs, her gaze softening as she watches me. “The point is, I know what it looks like when youcareabout someone. And I think you know it, too.”
My stomach tightens, but before I can argue, she lowers her voice.
“These walls are thin, you know.” Her tone is soft, but there’s weight behind it. “So I hear things I probably shouldn’t.”
My breath catches.
She gives me a pointed look before continuing. “And all I want to say is…guys don’t hold all the cards.Youhave power to make choices, too.”
I force myself to nod, fingers clenching the edge of the bedspread.
“I know.”
Mom studies me for a long moment, her brow furrowed—I know she doesn’t entirely believe me, but she shouldn’t worry.I know my own mind and I know what I’m worth. And in that second, I decide:I am sending Easton a note.
“You know you can come to me for anything. Even if you think I won’t understand.” Her voice softens further, almost hesitant. “I know things aren’t great with Dad and me right now, but we’re both always here for you, Harp.”
