I was nervous the whole next morning, especially as I sat in social studies, totally unable to focus on the quiz Mrs. Philips had passed out at the beginning of class. I hadn’t studied at all; in fact, I’d failed to turn in three of the last four assignments, so I knew even trying to answer the questions was pointless. School didn’t seem important right now, especially knowing that Grace and I were going to sit down with Dad tonight and tell him everything we’d done. Me more than Grace, I supposed. She’d kept the secret from him about taking me to Mama’s house, but it was me who’d snuck back there two other times and me who called my grandparents without saying a word about it. He had already forgiven me for taking the money from Grace’s purse, but I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t get off as easily for lying to him and sneaking around behind his back.
I was especially worried that once he found out the reason I’d done it all in the first place—to find out more about Mama’s past—that would be the end of it. I’d never discover what actually happened to her. I pictured how Dad would look when I confessed—the deep cut of his frown, his dark eyebrows cinched together over his nose, the disapproving shadow hanging in his eyes—and was certain he’d instantly forbid me from doing anything else that might explain why her parents sent her away.
It made my stomach clench to think that I’d never find out why Mama’s parents disowned her, who it was she’d written about missing in that note, or why she contacted Dr. Stiles. How could I live my entire life not knowing? I felt a deep-seated pang for Mama then, sharp enough to steal my breath. Tears welled up in my eyes, and even as I tried to fight them, images of her floated in front of me. She was supposed to be here for me in moments like this. Moments when I felt lost and scared, unsure of what steps to take. Tell me what to do, I thought. Please. Help me.
I waited. I wasn’t sure what, exactly, I was expecting to happen, but there were no voices in my head, no eerie response from wherever she might have gone. But then suddenly, a seed of an idea took root in my mind, and during the last few minutes of class, as I marked down a random assortment of answers on the quiz, I started to piece together a plan, knowing exactly what had to happen next.
* * *
In the lunchroom, Bree was sitting alone at our usual table, picking through a pile of French fries to find her favorite extra-crispy ones. I hurried over and straddled the bench.
“Hey,” she said, taking a sip of her chocolate milk. “What’s up?” She knew Grace was making me talk with my dad tonight and was a little worried that meant she would get in trouble, too.
“I want to go to California and see my grandparents,” I said, then quickly explained why. “After my dad finds out what I’ve been up to, there’s no way he’ll let me keep trying to find out more about my mom . . . right?” She nodded, and I continued. “If I don’t go now, I’ll never be able to. It’s the only way.”
Bree didn’t look convinced. “Can’t you just call them again? Why do you have to go all the way down there?”
“Because, Bree. My grandma barely spoke to me when I called before. If I just show up, there’s no way she can ignore me. What’s she going to do, shut the door in my face?” I swallowed the fear that that might be exactly what she would do. I paused, waiting for my friend to say something, but she didn’t, so I forged ahead with what I needed to ask her. “So, I was wondering if I could borrow some money for a bus ticket. I’ll pay you back, I promise.”
“I don’t know,” Bree said slowly. “Your dad is already going to be mad at you. I don’t think taking off to California is going to help.”
“Then you shouldn’t go to California,” I snapped, then immediately felt bad for it. “I’m sorry. God. I’m so sorry.” I waited, but she was still quiet, stung, I was sure, by my sharp words. “Bree,” I started again, my voice cracking on her name. “You’re my best friend. Please. I don’t have anyone else to ask.”
“Okay,” Bree said, releasing a heavy sigh. “When do you want to go?”
“Now. I don’t have dance squad today and Max is going to Logan’s house this afternoon so Grace will be looking for me outside the school right at three thirty. I need to be out of the house by then.”
She hesitated a moment, shredding the napkin she held, then spoke again. “We need to be out of the house, you mean.”
I smiled, trying to keep my bottom lip from trembling, then threw my arms around her. “You’re coming with me?”
“Umph!” she said, surprised by my embrace. “Yeah. You think I’d let you do something as crazy as this on your own?”
I shook my head, digging my face into her neck, unable to hold back my tears. After a moment, I managed to calm down, then pulled back. “Sorry,” I said.
“What for? Having feelings? Please. At least I know you haven’t turned into one of those dance-team fembots.”
I laughed, and we made our way to our lockers, deciding that it was probably easier to sneak off campus when everyone was still at lunch and most of our teachers were in their lounge eating, too. Slinging our backpacks over our shoulders, we tried to look casual as we strolled through the only exit that led to the street and was completely out of the office’s view. A couple of other kids stood outside, laughing and talking, and suddenly, Bree froze in place, grabbing my arm. “Skyler at ten o’clock,” she said, and I looked up to see him break off from his group of friends and start walking toward us just as we were about to dash across the last part of the playground.
“Hey,” he said as he approached. He leaned in and gave me an arm-around-the-shoulder hug—the only kind of hugging allowed at our school between boys and girls. Nothing below the waist could touch—it made me blush a little when I thought about why.
“Hey,” I said, a little dizzied by how good he smelled. I tried to sound relaxed, like it was totally normal for Bree and me to be hanging out on the edge of the school grounds. The last thing I needed was for him to ask us where we were going. “How are you?”
“Good.” He gave me a crooked grin, flipping his bangs out of his eyes with a jerk of his head. “But I totally bit it on that social studies quiz.”
“Yeah, me too.” I stole a glance at Bree, who attempted to appear extremely interested in her fingernails.
Skyler shoved his hands into the front pockets of his low-slung jeans. “I was thinking, maybe you might want to study together sometime? In the library or something?”
I smiled, relieved to see him blush, that he was nervous to talk with me, too. “Sure,” I said, nodding.
He grinned again. “Okay. Cool. So, I’ll text you?” He pulled his cell phone out from one of his pockets, I gave him my number, and he walked away.
“Oh. My. God,” Bree said, giving me a playful smack on the arm as we checked for any teachers in the immediate vicinity. None were around.
“I know, right?” I said, unable to keep a huge smile off of my face, momentarily distracted from what we were about to do. “That’s kind of like a date?”
“Totally!” Bree squealed. We shot down the street as fast as we could, our backpacks bouncing. My heart raced, not just because we were running, but because of the anxiety pounding through my blood. If we got caught, I was going to get in serious trouble.
But as we turned the corner that led to Bree’s house, I realized that going to California wasn’t about me. It wasn’t even about Dad. It was about Mama. About finishing what she had started. It was about facing her parents and finally hearing the truth.
