But as the kiss stretches out over the painfully awkward, silent seconds, I don’t feel anything, other than the metal table bench cutting into my calf.
Nothing.
Not a single butterfly.
When he pulls away, I paste a polite smile on my face to replace the dawning horror surely visible in my expression. “Thanks!” The words come out too loud. Too high-pitched.
Carlton doesn’t call me out on it, instead responding with nothing more than a tight-lipped lifting of his mouth.
“Hey guys.” Mabel plops several textbooks down on the table. “Today sucks.”
Trailing her are Rue and Meredith. All three of them are wearing identically solemn expressions.
“Mabel, stop whining,” says Meredith. “Your negativity is starting to bring me down, too.”
Rue nods. “I’m with Mere on this one, Mabel.”
Mabel sighs. “Sorry.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She winces. “I failed my calculus test. My mom is going to be pissed.”
Carlton says something back to her, but I’ve stopped listening. Behind Carlton, I catch sight of Zayne walking by. We exchange glances, and I can’t help but smile faintly. He returns the grin before he continues walking. Something flutters in my stomach, and at first I ignore it. But then I realize what it is.
Butterflies.
The much coveted butterflies I was anticipating to feel when I kissed Carlton are now fluttering through my stomach.
All because Zayne Silverman smiled at me.
Mom calls after school.
It’s the first time she’s called in weeks, but it feels more like years. Beau and Dad hover over the phone—on speaker—and talk Mom’s ear off about anything and everything. They want herto come back. They hope she’s feeling better. This house doesn’t feel like home without her. Beau misses her home-cooked meals. Dad is exhausted from working so much, but he can handle it just fine.
She has the perfect response for everything. Of course, she wants to come home. That’s why she’s away getting better. Aunt Lucille’s house doesn’t feel like home to her either—not without us. Mom misses making home-cooked meals for Beau, like his favorite vegetable soup and her crispy but tender chicken-pot-pie. She’s even learned some new recipes from her sister while she’s been away. She can’t wait to make them for us. And of course Dad can handle the work. She’s had faith in him from the start.
I’m amazed they all manage to talk so much, and even more startled when Mom says, “Dot? I’ve hardly heard a word from you. What’s been going on with you lately, baby?”
“Me? Um. I…” I search for the right words.I’ve been struggling big time since you left in May. I have no healthy emotional outlet, other than acting, which I’m not supposed to like as much as I do. I’m caught between my loyalty to the guy who was here for me when you left, and my guilt over thinking the guy who hates his guts isn’t so bad. My every move is being reported to the entire school by an anonymous human in disguise as a bird. I committed to getting into an Ivy aloud to impress you and Dad, but my heart has never really been in it and it’s starting to show. I haven’t been studying and haven’t read enough classic novels to be deemed Ivy-worthy. Deep down, I’m not sure I even want to go to college at all, but acting school really doesn’t sound too bad.
But of course I don’t say any of those things.
Instead, I tell her, “I got cast as the lead in Fallbrook’s upcoming school play.”
“Woah. Hang on a minute,” she says. “You lost me at play.”
I laugh. “I know.”
“And you say you got thelead? Dot, that’s amazing, sweetie. I didn’t even know you could act. It’s probably going to be a great extra-curricular for your college applications. When is this play?”
“Uh…” I scratch my head. “The first performance is at the beginning of December.”
“I’ve got to come see it.”
My heart stutters, but I try not to get my hopes up. “You don’t have to do that, Mom.”
Her voice is firm. “Yes, honey. Yes, I do. That’s the whole point of me being here, so I have more flexibility.”
