“Aren’t you even mad? You seem kind of over it,” Abby said.
“I’m definitely still mad. She made a choice that has pretty much ruined my life as I knew it. I’m holding out hope that she’ll admit that to me one of these days. I’m mad that she decided to slum it with a complete moron who didn’t have the brains to see the eight million holes in his grand plan to get rich quick. I’m mad that my dad all but ignored the fact that I was just trying to keep an eye on Ash, and that he left right when I needed him.”
I was on a roll, why stop? “I’m mad that Ash’s mistake just confirmed I don’t deserve my stepmother’s time, attention, and, God forbid, affection. And because of Ash, the stepmonster felt I needed a babysitter every waking moment of the day, so she brought her mother—a very cool person, but still—to live with us for the whole summer. And I’m also mad that my perfect stepsister, who barely speaks to me as it is, can hardly look at me now.”
We stood there quietly in the wake of the wave I’d just cast at them; no one dared speak. I looked down at my chest rising and falling, the cotton of my T-shirt sticking awkwardly to my skin. I pulled the sides of my shirt down over my hips and spoke in a voice half the size as before. “So to answer your question, yes, I’m mad. I think I’ll probably be mad for quite a while.”
This time, Abby didn’t hesitate. She closed the distance between us and wrapped her arms, just as sweaty as mine, around me, our skin fusing together. I let her hold me, and closed my eyes as I rested my cheek on the mahogany curls lying on her shoulder. I heard Hunter’s footsteps come behind me, and a hand patted the exposed space between my shoulder and Abby’s arms.
“I’m just gonna go ahead and say yes to the newspaper story. We’d love to have you come see us play. Both of you.”
I offered him a tentative smile. “I’d like that. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it happen. But I’m sure I’d like it.”
Abby walked me to my car after we said goodbye to Hunter. “Hey, so, do you think your stepmother would let you come over to my house for dinner this week? We could talk about what we want to do for the article on the band. Maybe if she knows my parents will be there the whole time, she’ll say yes?” Her face was so full of hope. I missed hope. I appreciated Abby’s effort, and her concern for me, but I couldn’t share her optimism.
“I will ask. My dad did say that all outings had to be approved ahead of time, but he didn’t say outings were off limits.”
Abby’s eyes crinkled as she grinned. “All you can do is ask, right? Maybe she’ll surprise you and say yes. Tell her she can even call my mom to confirm there’ll be appropriate supervision.” She winked when she said “appropriate.”
I couldn’t help laughing at her determination, but the little voice inside my head reminded me to not hold my breath.
When I came in the house, Belén was in the kitchen chopping cucumbers for a salad. I watched her make each cut with military precision, and wondered if she’d been watching my new favorite cooking show and learning about knife skills. No one else was around, so I knew this was my chance to ask her about going to Abby’s. I inhaled, squared my shoulders, and set my keys down on the table with a clink. Belén looked up, startled.
“Tatum, you’re home.” It was more scientific observation than greeting. I knew I couldn’t roll my eyes and have my request granted, so I forced a smile instead.
“Hi, Belén.” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. I rarely called her by her name. “I wondered if you would allow me to have dinner with my friend, Abby Gold, and her family one night this week. Her parents have invited me to join them.”
Belén’s only reaction was to blink her long lashes. Well, then. How else could I convince her it was okay for me to go?
“I promise to call you when I get there and when I leave, and if you want to talk to Mrs. Gold for confirmation of my arrival, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”
Another blink.
“Please?”
Belén set down her knife, turned around, crossed her arms against her chest, and watched for a minute. My hands began to shake, so I knotted them behind my back and studied the chipped polish on my toenails to avoid her stare.
Finally, she spoke. “It’s very generous of your friend’s family to invite you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
My cheeks burned instantly. How could she say no? There was nothing deceitful about my request. Granted, she had never met Abby or her parents, but I’d offered a solution for that, hadn’t I? I didn’t understand.
“Why not?” I was practically whispering, the corners of my eyes stinging with almost-tears.
“I think you need to stay focused on your community service and your job. You don’t need any distractions to steer you off course.”
Were we on a ship now? I opened my mouth to retort and then realized what she wasn’t saying. She was afraid Abby wasn’t a good influence. She wasn’t on my approved list of people I could interact with outside of the plant removal team, so it was an automatic no. It didn’t matter how great or responsible or mature I said Abby was. Once Belén decided something, there was no changing her mind. I’d learned that the hard way.
My shoulders slumped in defeat. “Right.”
I wished I could jump off Belén’s ship onto a lifeboat and row myself to sunnier shores, but instead I went up to my room to work until dinner was ready. Except I was a glutton for punishment, so instead of opening the files I’d been working on, I decided to email Ashlyn first.
Dear Ash,
Me again. Hope things are going well at Blue Valley. Are you in summer classes? Anything interesting? Tea Parties for Beginners? The Art of Croquet?
You’re not missing much here in Arlington. I’m spending my days pulling plants out of the ground and my nights designing. I’ve gotten a couple new clients recently, so that’s a plus. I’m making a book cover for this girl who writes science fiction. I’m starting with a black-and-white photo of the inside of a clock, all the gears and stuff. Thoughts?
Belén is being her usual self. Tilly is ignoring me. Blanche, Belén’s mom, is living with us, and she’s pretty cool. My dad’s gone again.
Let me know how you are. Please.
Be Well,
Tate