My words push Mom’s back against the couch. Her narrowed eyes regain their shape.
“You don’t mean that,” Mom replies, slowly shaking her head. “You’re just saying that because right now things are tense. But things will go back to normal—”
“Go back to normal? What normal?” I interrupt her. “Things have never been normal for me, and if I become a Black Angel, my life will never be normal. Ever. And you know what? I don’t know if I want that.”
My mother’s head snaps up. Her shoulders fall and the surprise of my confession pushes the air from her lungs. She closes her eyes for a moment and regains her breath.
“Reagan, being a Black Angel is a privilege. To whom much is given—” she begins but I interrupt again.
“Yes, I know. Much is expected. I’ve only looked at that quote every day for my entire life.”
Mom takes a breath, looking me up and down, her fingers wrapping around her Glock 22. “You are not a normal girl. Your talent … I’ve never seen anyone with your talent. Your name has been on the academy’s list since you were ten years old. It’s what we’ve been training you for. How can you just throw all our hard work away?”
“So it’s about you, then? What you’ve done? Have you ever stopped to think about what’s best for me? Don’t you want me to be happy?”
Mom crosses her strong arms and bites at her full bottom lip. I can see her thinking behind those intense eyes, choosing each word carefully. “Some people aren’t meant to be happy. Some are meant to change the world. You were meant to change the world. You think you’d be happy with the picket fence life?”
“Yes,” I answer, my voice small.
“I’m your mother,” she says, pointing at her chest. “I know you wouldn’t.”
I suck new air into my burning lungs. “Then you don’t know me at all.”
My eyes blur, my brain throbs as it fights to push tears back down. Mom opens her mouth to speak but I hold up my hand and stop her.
“I cannot do this,” I say, my voice so quiet I’m not sure if she even heard me. But from the look on her face, I know she did. Those four words have been on repeat in my head for months, maybe even years. I’ve buried them, categorized them as nerves or anxiety. But I know now they’re the truth. “I’ve tried to do this for you, Mom. I felt like I owed it to you, to my country, but I cannot live like this. I cannot pull a trigger and hope it hits the right person. I cannot live a life where I’m constantly looking over my shoulder. I cannot walk around half dead. Numb. Because every other emotion I could possibly feel is too big and scary.”
Mom slides her palm down the length of her face. Her lips form an exaggerated “O” as she slowly pushes out three dense breaths.
“I’ve seen real happiness, Mom. I’ve felt it. And I’m done living alone in the dark.”
I stand up and walk across the living room toward the curved staircase.
“You’re doing this because of Luke, aren’t you?” Mom asks. His name and her accusation stop me cold.
Her words punch me in my gut and I have never been so insulted in my life. I grit my teeth, dig my nails into the soft wood of the stair rail, and try not to explode.
“Do you even know why I went out tonight, Mom?” I ask, turning around, my skin burning. “I went out to break Luke’s heart. I knew we were one threat away from having to leave and I didn’t want Luke to always wonder what happened to me. So I did what you taught me. I strategized. I screwed with people’s minds. I created a game plan and it worked and now I feel awful. I just obliterated my chance with the only guy who might actually love me.”
“Guys will come and go, Reagan—” Mom begins but I cut her off.
“Not this guy,” I say, biting my teeth into my quivering bottom lip. “Guys like him don’t come around every day.”
“He’s one boy,” Mom replies, shrugging like I’m overreacting. “There will be others.”
“How?” My voice shrieks, my face twisting with the implausibility. “You’re basically destining me to a life of total, utter loneliness.”
“Your father and I destined you for greatness,” Mom replies. I tighten my grasp on the stair rail and listen, letting her words wash over me. “We’ve handed you a golden ticket and you’re just going to throw it in the trash.”
I grab ahold of the stair rail so tight, I’m surprised splinters don’t cut into my skin.
“You know, I thought you were special, Reagan.” Mom pushes herself off the couch to face me and continues. “But you’re just going to blend in with everybody else. You’ll become beige. And then you’ll think back to this moment and you’ll regret it.”