Page 124 of Mad Girl

Fine, I thought. This will be fun.

“I was at a boy’s house,” I said, then popped a piece of asparagus into my mouth.

Libby and John exchanged a look.

“What boy?” John asked.

“His name is Willoughby. My dad knows all about him.”

“What were you doing at this boy’s house?” Libby asked.

I smirked. “Do you really want me to answer that at the dinner table?”

Across from me, Michael and Bree closed their eyes, identical expressions of dread on their faces.

Libby made no effort to stop me, so I said, “We kissed, and then we took off our clothes, and then he⁠—”

“Okay.” John held up his hand. “That’s enough.”

“Do you realize how worried we all were when we couldn’t get in touch with you?” Libby asked. “You scared your dad to death, and now you aren’t responding to his texts. So you’re to call him immediately after dinner.”

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

“It isn’t optional. You’ll call him as soon as we’re finished here.”

I laughed. “Of course it’s optional. I’m not calling him, and you can’t make me.”

John leaned forward, his concerned gaze trained on my face. “What’s going on, Elliot? Why don’t you want to talk to your dad?”

See there, Casey? That’s where you get it from—the innate desire you have to tug the truth loose.

“That’s none of your business, John,” I snapped.

“Actually,” John said, “anything you do under our care is my business. You scared us today, so we deserve a little honesty from you right now. We’d like to understand.”

“Maybe you think you would, but maybe you don’t. Maybe my dad doesn’t want me to be honest, and I’m respecting his wishes by not telling you.” Michael’s brush with the police came to mind.

“Elliot, honey,” Libby said, a glass of white wine held aloft in her hand, her shiny manicured nails catching the light, a smug look plastered across her perfectly made-up face, “your dad tells us everything.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure about that, Libby?”

Michael tossed me a warning glance from across the table.

Libby nodded. “I’m positive. The three of us don’t keep secrets from each other.”

I laughed so hard, Casey. So freaking hard. They all narrowed their gazes at me—except for Michael. Michael tossed his head back, heaving a sigh so loud it caught John’s attention. But even Michael didn’t know the biggest secret of all: the secret about you.

“We know what happened to you at the Halloween party,” Libby said, “and you’re struggling, honey, we can tell. Your dad wants to hear your voice—he just wants to make sure you’re okay—that’s all. Why aren’t you willing to check in with him?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not calling him.”

“You are, Elliot. In fact, you aren’t leaving this table until you’ve talked to him.”

I hated being forced to do anything I didn’t want to do, but what I maybe hated more? What really irked me? Politician Barbie thinking she had the right to parent me. She was not my fucking mom.

Black rage swept through my veins.

“My dad doesn’t want to see if I’m okay,” I said through clenched teeth. “My dad wants to gauge how erratic I am right now. He thinks the two of you can keep me in line as well as he can, but he learned today that the two of you can’t control me, either. He’s worried, because for the first time in my life, he’s beginning to realize I can’t be contained forever, and it’s only a matter of time before he loses all control. To answer your question, Libby, I’m not willing to check in because I don’t fucking want to—and that should be a good enough reason for everyone.”