A: I don’t know. Maybe. It wasn’t like a love thing. Or a relationship. Or whatever.
Q: Why do you say that?
A: Because Zach told me that: “This is not a love thing. This is not anything.” He told me that all the time.
Amanda
TWO DAYS BEFORE THE PARTY
By the time Amanda was rushing down to Blue Bottle, she was more than ten minutes late. Sarah and Maude were already seated at an outside table in the small gravel patio area, the late June morning quite warm, but not humid. One of those perfect New York City summer days that Amanda had been repeatedly warned would soon give way to an unbearable August of stifling smells and furious people. Eventually even most of the adults would be off in the Hamptons or Cape Cod or on assorted European adventures, and by the last weeks of summer, Park Slope would be rendered nearly a ghost town.
Maude’s back was to Amanda as she approached, but she could see Sarah—big sunglasses on, her mouth a flat line. Amanda waited for her to look up, to smile broadly and wave theatrically as she usually did. But Sarah stayed fixated on Maude.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Amanda murmured when she’d finally rushed through the café and out onto the patio.
She hadn’t decided yet whether she would mention the emails about Case. She was so ashamed that she’d somehow missed them. But then hadn’t Sarah said something about getting similar emails and ignoring them?
“That’s okay,” Sarah said, her voice grave. “Maude and I were just talking.”
Once Amanda sat down, she could see that Maude’s eyes were puffy from crying.
“What happened?” Amanda asked. “Is Sophia okay?”
Maude shook her head. “I don’t know. I got another letter. It didn’t say anything different exactly—but I have such a bad feeling. I finally reached somebody at the camp, and they said she seems absolutely fine, but she’s gone on some stupid backpacking excursion, so I can’t actually talk to her directly until Thursday. I don’t think I’m going to feel better until I hear her voice.”
“Maude, honey,” Sarah said more forcefully. “What happened to Sophia? There is obviously something going on. Tell us so that we can help.”
“All Sebe wants me to do is stay calm,” Maude said. “And I just—he’s wrong. She’s not okay. I can feel it.”
“That’s because husbands are useless,” Sarah said. “Even the gorgeous ones. Maude, telluswhat happened.”
“But I promised Sophia I wouldn’t.” Maude looked pained.
“Please,” Sarah huffed. “Parent promises are kept at the discretion of the parent. Everybody knows that.”
Maude stared out into the distance for a moment, chewing on her lip.
“Sophia took some naked pictures of herself,” she finally blurted out, and then her body sank. “For this boy she’s seeing.”
“Oh, Maude, theyalldo that!” Sarah exclaimed. “I’vedone that, which, by the way, I do not recommend—no matter how high your self-esteem, naked at forty-eight years old is much better in your head than in a selfie—but you wouldn’t believe the pictures my son and his friends getsent to them. All the time. And I am not blaming the girls, either. No, no, no. I know the boysask. Even my boys, I’m sure. Like it’s nothing. And for that I blame porn. And not regular oldPlayboyeither. That was healthy curiosity. This online garbage?” Sarah closed her eyes and shuddered. “Anyway, my point is, it’s a bottomless cauldron of twisted depravity out there. There are apparently whole websites devoted to things like ‘peeper porn.’”
“Peeper porn?” Amanda asked.
“Oh, just people videotaping up women’s skirts or settingup cameras in public bathrooms, that kind of thing.” Sarah blushed uncharacteristically. “No big deal, right?”
Maude’s eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, Maude, I’m so sorry!” Sarah cupped a hand over her mouth. “That peeper bullshit has nothing to do with Sophia! Really, it has nothing to do with anything. So Sophia took the pictures, and I’m assuming she gave them to the boy? It’s not a big deal. Seriously. We just need to make sure Sophia knows that.”
“Think of how amazing it is that Sophia told you about any of it, Maude,” Amanda pointed out. “It shows how much she trusts you.”
“Exactly. It’s a testament to what a good mother you are,” Sarah added. “I like to ride you about hovering, but, you know, my boys don’t tell me a damn thing.”
Maude blinked, sending the tears rushing down her cheeks.
“There’s more,” she said.
“What?” Sarah asked.
