“Mom!”
“Don’t ‘Mom’ me. Turn your music down. And apologize to Miss Stella.”
She heaved the aggrieved sigh of teenagers everywhere before saying, “Sorry.”
April cleared her throat.
The teen stood up straighter and adjusted her voice to something closer to contrite. “I apologize for playing my music so loudly.”
Underneath the indignation lay mortification. I remembered that feeling only too well. Something about hormones meant life itself was embarrassing, much less mothers who made you apologize to strangers.
Maybe that empathy prodded me to say something to lighten the mood.
“Too bad you don’t live above Mr. Malone. He hates Taylor Swift.”
Her jaw dropped. “How? Why? But he’s such a snack.”
More like a whole damn meal, kid.
“Addison,” April warned. “He’s also old enough to be your father.”
“Ew, gross, Mom. Why do you always have to go there?” She backed away from us disgusting adults, but then I remembered my real reason for being there.
“Are y’all missing a kitten, or have you seen any kittens or a mother cat around here?”
“No,” April said at the same time Addie said, “Phillip’s mom—they live over in building three—took a mother cat and kittens to a rescue society day before yesterday.”
“Do you know which one?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I only heard him talking about it on the bus.”
So my kitten really was an orphan.
“Well, thank you,” I said. “And nice to meet you both.”
April waited for Addie to disappear down the hall, then stepped out into the breezeway with me. “Does the guy downstairs really hate Taylor Swift?”
“That’s what I’m told.”
She frowned. “I mean, I could use some variety up here, but that’s a shame. He’s always seemed so nice.”
He did seem . . . nice.
My conscience pricked. I shouldn’t have said anything. Technically, I didn’t have a confidentiality agreement with Trista, but I didn’t need to get in the habit of hearsay. Why had I said anything?
Because you remember being an exposed nerve like that child and wanted her to redirect her emotions somewhere else, pretty much anywhere else.
I shrugged, not able to say something about how looks could be deceiving. Instead, I told the truth. “I shouldn’t have said anything. And really, the music is no problem. I only hear it in the bathroom for some reason. She seems like a good kid.”
April’s shoulders lowered with relief. “Thank you for saying that. I’ve been so busy trying to make sure my youngest is getting the support he needs, I sometimes forget Addie isn’t as self-sufficient as she would like for me to believe.”
“What’s happening with your youngest?”
“Oh, don’t get me started. A school board member has canceled the after-school tutoring program that’s been helping him catch up.”
“The one for this district?”
“Yeah.” She was about to say something else when a young boy, about ten, appeared at the door.
