“Can I tell you something?” I whispered as the girl from the phone store disappeared into the back storeroom.
Ben nodded.
I lowered my voice even more. “I didn’t really want to get a phone today.”
“Okay. Can I tellyousomething?” He moved a little closer. “I did not need to go to the post office.”
I glanced at Lana, who was sitting outside on a bench. “You didn’t?”
“Nope. I mean, I did have something to send off for school. But I did that, like, last week.” He looked at her as well. “She’d never admit it. But she doesn’t like going home alone.”
“Okay,” the employee said, returning. She had jet-black hair, the ends tinged with blue, as well as a nose piercing. Her bright yellow tee said,I CAN HELP!“With your family’s plan, you have two options. Free or not free.”
She put two boxes down in front of me. One was the newest model, the other a knock-off brand I didn’t recognize.
“Free,” I told her, although I could have upgraded with my money from the Egg. And just like that, I was back in the world.
Technically. Really what happened was that she activated the phone and synced it with the cloud, at which point I turned it off again. I wanted truly connecting to be up to me.
Outside, Lana was studying her own screen. “You want us to come to the post office with you?” she asked Ben.
“Nah,” he told her. “Just be a sec.”
He walked toward it, sliding in the door as an elderly couple exited. I wondered what he’d do to kill time inside. Read flyers? Check out available stamps? Such a small, silly thing to make someone feel good, or at least better.
Lana went back to her phone, eyes narrowed. When I took a spot next to her, I saw it was full of texts fromMOM. None were answered.
“You okay?” I asked, just as yet another popped up.Come on baby, it read.Don’t be stubborn.
She looked up at me. “You don’t have to ask me about her, you know. The mother thing is not reciprocal.”
“I know,” I said immediately, although I had not actually made this specific connection. “I just thought you might want to talk. Or something.”
She sighed, flopping back against the back of the bench. “What’s to discuss? She’s a selfish person. Always has been. When I was a kid, all she did was pawn me off on other people so she could be with whatever loser she was seeing.”
I kept quiet. I’d learned that getting personal info from Lana was tricky: The more interest you showed, the less she’d reveal. Never before had I had to fake apathy as encouragement. But then I’d never known anyone like her, either.
“And now,” she continued, “she claims she wants to take care of me. It’s a little late for that. Also, she’s lying. Staying there isn’t free—she’s always demanding money.”
“That’s messed up,” I ventured.
“It is.” She crossed her legs, then her arms. Sometimes body language is everything. “And the thing is, we both know it’s all bullshit. That even if I did stay there, it would eventually end up with fighting or the police being called over or whatever. But she lies anyway.”
Police?I thought.
“And that’s the worst part. If you suck at being a mom, at least own up to it. Don’t pretend to be something you’re not.”
She had a point. And in making it, I realized something about my own mom. Yes, she had left, and of course it hurt. She wasn’t there for the day-to-day, sure, and she’d missed a lot by choice. But if she said she’d show up—for holidays, at the airport when I flew in to meet her at one hotel or another—she always did. It counted.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Twenty minutes later, after dropping Ben back at his place, we were pulling up to the Woods. The space in front was crowded with cars: Liz’s, the truck, Anne’s, and a bright yellow VW bug I didn’t recognize. Kasey was on the porch, her phone to one ear.
“It’s not exactly a good time. We’re dealing with some family stuff here,” she was saying as we climbed the stairs. A sigh. “Fine. We’ll see you then.”
“Who was that?” Lana asked.
“Some eco-design person from the Tides,” Kasey replied, sounding tired. “It never ends.”
