Page 27 of Our Little Secret
“Do I?” Brooke couldn’t remember using that phrase in front of Marilee, though she had said something about her being an old soul in a young body just the other day when she was on the phone to Andrea. Her daughter was now throwing Brooke’s words back at her.
Finally, Marilee stepped into the room and plopped onto the bed next to Brooke.
“Come on, Mom,” she wheedled.
Brooke said, “Wait a sec. When did you and Nick start seeing each other?”
“We haven’t yet. That’s why this is so important!” Marilee flung herself back on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. “I can go, right?”
“Of course you can go to the dance. You can meet him there, sure.”
“He’s going to pick me up.”
“So it’s a real date? Marilee, I don’t think it’s a great idea—”
“Why not? Geez, Mom, it’s not like it’s nineteen eighty!”
“I know, but—”
“What do you think’s going to happen?” Marilee demanded, turning her head on the duvet so she could stare at her mother. “Don’t you trust me?”
Here we go. The age-old argument.
“Of course I trust you.”
“Then you don’t trust Nick, or that . . . that I can’t handle myself around him.”
That was it precisely, but Brooke didn’t know how to say it. “It’s not that,” she said. “But since Allison has gone missing—”
“So?” She sat up and pinned her mother in her glare. “You think Nick had something to do with that?”
“No, of course not.”
“Hey—what’s going on?” Neal’s footsteps were loud as he turned the corner and saw the ongoing battle. “Uh-oh. Girl talk.”
Marilee gave a little puff of disgust. “Mom won’t let me go to the dance with Nick. She thinks he’s, like, some serial killer or something.”
“What?” Neal looked confused.
Brooke clarified. “Nick Paszek. And Idon’tthink he’s a serial killer.”
“Tammi’s brother?” Neal was catching up as he walked into the room and took a seat on the edge of a chair near the closet.
Brooke nodded. “Yes.”
“Isn’t he in college?” Neal asked.
Brooke said, “Not yet.”
“He’s a senior!” Marilee cut in. “He goes to my school!”
“He wants to drive her,” Brooke explained. “That’s the issue here. Not the going-to-the-dance part. Of course she can go to the dance.”
Neal said, “I thought we settled this, about dating, I mean.”
“I’m almost fifteen,” Marilee countered.
“In what? Three months?” Neal was amused.
