Page 5 of Seven Days in June

“Audre,” started Eva, rubbing a temple. “What do I always say?”

“Resist, persist, insist,” she recited.

“What else?”

“I’ve never been sleepier than I am at this moment.”

“WHAT ELSE?”

Audre sighed, defeated. “I trust you, you trust me.”

“Right. When you break my rules, I can’t trust you. You’re grounded. No devices for two weeks.”

Audre shrieked. The noise reverberated in Eva’s head for thirty seconds.

“NO PHONE? What am I gonna do?”

“Who knows? ReadGoosebumpsand write poems to Usher, like I did at your age.”

Eva stormed down the hall and entered Audre’s room. Twenty girls were crammed on the bunk beds and floor, a blur of spring-break-tanned skin and crop tops.

“Hi, girls! You know you’re always welcome here if Audre asks my permission. But she didn’t, so…time to go.” Eva beamed, careful not to disrupt her standing as “cool mom,” which wasn’t supposed to matter but did.

“We’ll host a sleepover soon,” promised Eva. “It’ll be lit!”

“Tell me you didn’t just say ‘lit,’” wailed Audre from the living room.

One by one, the girls filed out of the bedroom. Audre stood slumped next to the front door, a droopy weeping willow of misery. She pulled a wad of cash out of her back pocket, and as the girls left, Audre handed each one her rightful twenty dollars. A few of the girls hugged her. It was like a funeral procession.

“Whoa!” Eva noticed a blond boy attempting to sneak out with the crowd. He rose to his full height—a full three heads taller than Eva.

“Who are you?”

“Omigod, Mom. That’s Coco-Jean’s stepbrother.”

“You’re Coco-Jean’s stepbrother? Why are you so tall?”

“I’m sixteen.”

“You’re in high school?” Eva glared at Audre, who sprinted down the hall and flung herself on her bottom bunk.

“Yeah, but I’m chill. I’m in the honors program at Dalton.”

“Oh, I’m bathed in relief. Why are you hanging out with twelve-year-olds?”

“Audre’s, like, a really gifted mental health specialist. She’s helping me manage the anxiety I feel due to my gluten allergy.”

“Quick question. Did my daughter diagnose this gluten allergy?”

“He breaks out whenever he eats focaccia or crostini!” Audre yelled from her bedroom. “What wouldyoucall that?”

“Listen, you seem like a nice”—gullible—“kid, but you being here in my home without my knowledge is a hard no.”

“I can’t believe I missed my hip-hop violin lesson for this,” he grumbled, storming out.

Eva leaned against the door for a moment, trying to decide how deeply she was going to freak out. In these moments, she wished she had the kind of mom she could call for advice.

She had an ex-husband, but she couldn’t call him for advice, either. Troy Moore, a Pixar animator, had two settings: cheerful and really cheerful. Complicated emotions upset his worldview. It was why Eva had fallen for him. He’d been a ray of light, back when everything in Eva’s world had been dark.

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