Page 81 of Perfect on Paper

“Of course,” I said.

“Well, I don’t know, Darcy. You didn’t tell me this.”

I scoffed. “When was I supposed to do that, Mom? You make me hang around here every afternoon but you’re too busy grading papers to talk to me when I need help. I have to go to Ainsley foreverything—”

“That’s not fair.”

“It is! Ainsley drives me everywhere, and gives me all the advice, and comforts me when I’m crying in my room, not thatyouever noticed. You don’t even know aboutBrougham,for god’s sake.”

“What about Brougham?”

“I don’t want to talk about Brougham right now,”I said.“That’s not the point. The point is that Ididwant to talk about him with you and you were too busy. Like youalwaysare.”

Mom stared at me with a wounded expression. “I’m always asking after you. How could you say I’m too busy for you?”

“You ask, but when I start telling you, you drift off!”

“That’s not true.”

“Itis.”

Mom took a measured, deep breath. “You’re upset, and you’re projecting onto me, and that’s not fair.”

I wiped away my tears and glared out of the side window. What was the point of arguing back if she was just going to shut down everything I said?

“So, you’re telling me that I won’t regret it if I let you stay at home on Friday, and I don’t need to send you to your father’s for supervision?”

“I can guarantee that. Also, Brooke hates me, and I have no friends anymore, so there’s nothing I’d want to do even if I was going to break the rules.”

“Wait, what happened with Brooke?” Mom asked.

I turned back to give her alook.Something akin to horror crossed her face. My point couldn’t have been made more effectively if I’d tried. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I spent all last night crying in my bedroom; I guess I figured you’d notice andask.By the way,your advicecaused it. And I shouldn’t have listened to you, because you didn’t know the full story, and it all went to shit.”

“Uh, that would be because you didn’ttell methe full story.”

“I didn’t feel like Icould! I knew you’d be mad at me about the locker.”

“Well, ofcourse I am, I—” She broke off, took a deepbreath, and started the car. “This conversation isn’t over, okay? We need to discuss this when we’re both feeling calmer. But… it’s not okay for you to feel like you can’t talk to me about things. So.”

Yeah. We’d see if she ever brought this up again. I wasn’t holding my breath, though.

As she pulled the car out of the parking lot and waited for traffic, Mom’s downturned mouth was touched by a tiny smile. “Ten letters a week,” she murmured to herself, shaking her head. “Good god, girl.”

EIGHTEEN

With Mom gone on Friday, and the house empty, Ainsley and I settled in for a night eating junk food, watching Netflix, and feeling sorry for me.

To add to my misery—something that felt oddly satisfying—I distracted myself throughout the movie by scrolling through pictures of prom as they were uploaded. There was a picture of Winona, looking stunning in a figure-hugging, glittery pink gown. Ray with a group of her friends, wearing a magenta jumpsuit. Brougham, Finn, Hunter, and Luke, posing with a group of senior guys, laughing at a joke I’d never hear.

Brougham’s smile met his eyes. I loved how that looked.

He’d texted me the night before to check in on me, and I’d thanked him for his concern and updated him on the suspension thing, but didn’t keep the conversation going. I was buried in a cloud of shame and embarrassment, and I just didn’t want to talk about it. All I wanted to do was eat junk food and put my social and academic downfall out of my mind, to be dealt with properly next week.

“Your turn next year,” Ainsley said as she caught sight of the photos. “Any drama?”

“None that I know of.”

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