No idea—not that I would tell her if I knew. No fucking way. I don’t need my mother doing a deep dive on Harper’s parents out of sheer nosiness.
“Does Dad know?” Mom asks suddenly.
“No.”
Mom seems amused. “I can help you come up with ideas on how to ask her, if you want me to.”
Guilt churns in my stomach, but I push it aside.
“Nah, it’s fine. I’m not going to make a production out of it.” I clear my throat. “Harper isn’t that kind of girl.”
We fall into a lull, and I know she’s already thinking up more questions, inching closer to the threshold of my patience. I do not normally spill my secrets to my parents—they know I’m close-lipped.
I go to school. Go to practice.
Come home.
Sleep, eat. The usual.
I do not confess my sins—do not pass go. If I told them all the dumb shit I’ve done, my motherthe lawyerwould haul my ass into the principal’s office so fast my head would spin.
“Should we go tuxedo shopping or do you want to wear asuit?” Mom says at last, pressing the issue of prom like a dog with a bone.
“Dunno.” I’m not in the mood to think about those details.
“Okay.” She pats me on the hand. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, hmm?”
Or not. “Sure.”
“All right. Good.” She is glowing at the thought of taking me shopping for dress clothes, practicallybeamingas she stands and gives my hand one last squeeze before heading to the door. “Just don’t forget—the dance is exciting, but it isnotyour priority.”
Who could forget when they are constantly reminding me? I bust my ass in the gym—and on the ice—almost every day of the week. Not to mention practice shots in the driveway, and that rink Dad builds in the side yard every winter.
“I haven’t forgotten.”I can’t escape from it.
She taps the doorframe, lingering. “Love you.”
“Love you.” I watch as she closes the door behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts yet again.
The room feels quieter now, the noise in my head slightly dulled by Mom’s brief visit.
I reach over and turn off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The ceiling is still here, the wall is still here—they’re just invisible now, holding all the thoughts I’ve let marinate. My secrets.
Well. One less secret. Now she knows about prom.
I close my eyes, willing sleep to come.
Two faces clash in my mind: Maddie Miller’s and Harper’s. I can still see Harper’s crestfallen expression in the hallway. The whole fucking situation is too complicated for my teenage brain to handle.
Too messy.
Am I the problem?Shit.
I don’t know much, but I do know one thing: Tomorrow is going to be another day of pretending everything is hunky-dory. Another day of trying to keep all my actual thoughts bottled up where they can’t do any damage.
And.
I have a date.
