THOUGH AUBREY AND I HAD BEEN FRIENDS SINCE sixth grade and logged many hours at each other’s houses, her parents and mine never managed to bond. My mother thought her mother was “a piece of work,” and my father thought her father was “high and mighty.” Aubrey and I never discussed it, but I knew her parents thought my parents were “tacky and limited.” So imagine my surprise when my mother came in my room one Sunday afternoon at the end of March to tell me she’d just gotten off the phone with Mrs. McCrae.
“What did she want?” I asked, looking up from the collage I was making for art class. Mom had the small wrinkle between her eyes that meant she was either worried or annoyed.
“She has some concerns about Aubrey.” She sat beside me on the edge of my bed. “Apparently, she’s been sneaking around with some boy behind her parents’ backs.”
My blood froze. Crap. “Um, why does she think that?”
“Because she was driving by the park yesterday and saw them together. Holding hands and kissing.” Her eyes narrowed and she peered closely at my face, which probably glowed like a stoplight. “She thought I should be in the loop, in case you’re hiding things too.”
God, I loathed Mrs. McCrae. “I’m not, Mom. I swear. I don’t have a secret boyfriend.”
“But you knew Aubrey had a secret boyfriend?”
“Well, yeah. She’s my best friend.” I traced my finger over my collage, which was supposed to be a representation of all my favorite things. So far, all I had was a picture of Aubrey and me, a magazine cutout of an actor I liked, and bubble letters spelling out my name. “I don’t get what the big deal is, anyway. Why can’t she have a boyfriend? Would you freak out if I had one?”
“Depends on the boy, but no, I wouldn’t freak out. I can’t speak for your father, though.”
I snorted. Dad often joked that the first thing he’d do when I brought a boy home was take him down to the basement and show him his rifle collection.
Mom reached down to pick some paper scraps off my carpet. “The problem with Aubrey’s parents is they’re scared to let their kids be kids. And if you expect perfection out of your children and make them feel like they can never mess up . . .” She shook her head. “It’s only a matter of time before they rebel.”
“Aubrey’s not rebelling,” I said. “It’s not like she ran off with a biker gang or something. She and Justin are just, you know, hanging out.”
This earned me another narrow-eyed look. “Is that all?”
My mind flashed with an image of the small boxes of birth control pills the clinic doctor had given Aubrey a few weeks ago. She’d hidden them on the top shelf of her closet, behind her old porcelain doll collection. Every night, she had to dig around up there and then swallow a pill with the bottle of water she kept on her nightstand. Then I thought about the twinge of jealousy I felt when she told me she was no longer a virgin.
So it definitely wasn’t all, but no way in hell would I discuss my best friend’s lack of virginity and the crush I had on her boyfriend with my mother. I could barely even admit one of those things to myself.
“That’s all,” I said in what I hoped was a convincing tone. It must have been, because the wrinkle between Mom’s eyes all but disappeared. “Did Mrs. McCrae tell you anything else? Is Aubrey grounded?”
Duh, I thought. Why did I bother asking? Of course she was grounded. They’d probably taken away her phone and laptop and locked her in her room with a tray of stale bread and lukewarm water. Maybe I’d never see her again.
“She didn’t get into any of that. I think the main reason she called was to make sure I’m parenting my kid.” Mom stood up and tossed the paper scraps into my overflowing trash can. “You know you can talk to your dad and me about anything, right? Even if you think we’ll disapprove, don’t ever be afraid to come to us. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
She gave my hair a gentle tug and left the room. Not even a minute later, my phone started dinging with texts.
Can you come over?
She won’t come out of the bathroom.
Not sure what to do.
My stomach dipped. They were all from Ethan, who rarely texted me and never asked me for help. I texted back, Your parents home? If Aubrey was grounded, it meant grounded from everything except school and violin.
No.
I looked down at my collage, which was due Tuesday and nowhere near finished. Then I thought of my best friend, crying in the bathroom while her brother stood outside the door, helpless.
Be there in 10 mins.
Downstairs, I told my parents the truth—Aubrey was upset and needed me. It was enough. Dad drove me over so I wouldn’t have to walk in the biting cold. To my relief, Mr. and Mrs. McCrae’s cars were still gone when I arrived.
Ethan swung open the door before I even had a chance to knock. His face was drawn with worry.
“Where is she?” I asked, slipping out of my heavy coat.
“Upstairs bathroom.” He ran a hand over his buzzed hair. “She’s been crying for . . . I don’t know, at least forty-five minutes, and she won’t open the door. She yelled at me to go away.”
His tone held a combination of hurt and surprise. Ethan and Aubrey weren’t the type of siblings who fought and called each other names, like Tobias and I sometimes did. Aubrey rarely got angry with him or pushed him away, and I could see on his face that it had shaken him.
“Ethan.” I wrapped my fingers around his forearm and jostled him a little so he’d look at me. “She didn’t mean it.”
He nodded quickly. “I know.”
I wasn’t convinced he did, but I’d worry about him later. His sister needed me more.
Upstairs, I knocked lightly on the bathroom door, trying the knob with my other hand. Locked. “Aubrey,” I said, knocking again. “It’s me. Open up.”
A loud sniffle filtered through the door, followed by the sound of toilet paper unrolling. I listened as she blew her nose, then knocked a third time.
“Go away.”
Her voice sounded nasally and rough, and so unlike Aubrey it made my heart thump. I glanced behind me to where Ethan was leaning against the opposite wall, watching me. He looked slightly relieved that I’d gotten the same response.
“Aubrey,” I said in a don’t-test-me voice. “Open this door or I will break it down.”
My threat was greeted with complete silence. Either she didn’t believe I had it in me (I did), or she was considering the potential damage to both the door and my body if I did have it in me. Fortunately, her practicality won out and she opened the door before I got the chance to follow through.
“Are you okay?” I asked the second I saw her red, puffy face.