Page 74 of Catching Feelings

“Of course!” I leap forward to help her settle it, and when she disappears with a cheerful wave that very clearly communicates no need for beef, I finally relax.

Honest conversations are doable. Maybe sometimes they’re even kinda… anticlimactic.

Thank God. Now, about that DJ—

“This place looks stunning!” Kara blows in, wearing a sequined little black dress, striding confidently in tall platform heels. “And before you ask, I just checked on the ticket booth, and they’re ready to sell extras at the door.” She grins. “With this new setting—genius, by the way—we might actually break Hamilton Lakes ticket sales records.”

“We really are the best team.” I grin back at her. “We said we’d run the most iconic Spirit Committee this school has ever seen, and we did it.”

“It was touch and go there for a moment,” Kara says with a solemn wince.

I shrug airily. “Oh, I was never worried. Not when the two of us were in charge. Our teamwork has never let this school down before.”

She loops an arm around my shoulders, the amber-and-cinnamon scent of her tickling my nose, and I’m slammed by a wave of complicated feelings. Pride that we’re doing something iconic in our last year at Hamilton Lakes and total terror at the idea of her moving across the country next year.

Kara must feel it too, because she squeezes me tighter. We’ll get to next year when we get there. For now, we’re here, and this is all I ever wanted from my senior year.

And then Kara snaps upright, fixing me with her steeliest stare. “Now, on to more important issues. What is wrong with you?”

I startle. “Excuse me?”

She points over my shoulder, and I turn to see my mom racing across the field with a black garment bag slung over her shoulder.

“She got your voicemail and tried to call you back, but you didn’t pick up, so she called me instead,” Kara explains. “We had a nice bonding chat about how self-destructively hyper-independent you can be.”

And then Mom’s beside me, cheeks pink from how fast she was hustling, wisps of hair falling out of her ponytail and around her face. I got my blond waves from her, though she’s starting to get a few streaks of gray. I think they make her look elegant even in her day-off hoodie and sweatpants.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here.” I grimace guilty. “You were catching up on the Housewives, weren’t you?”

“Impossible to ever catch up. And they’ll be there when I get back.” She frowns at me. “As if I wouldn’t bring your homecoming dress to you! Sabrina, I know you’re more responsible than most girls your age—”

Kara coughs something that sounds like parentification under her breath.

“—but I’m still your mom.” Her eyes are shiny. “I know I’ve been busier this year dealing with my own feelings about the divorce, but… I still want to be here for you. I don’t want you to stop asking, okay?”

I nod. I don’t trust myself to speak past the lump in my throat.

“Now I want you to enjoy this beautiful night that you’ve put together, and to dance with the guy I know you’ve been sneaking around with, and enjoy every minute of it.” She opens her arms, and I fall into a hug that’s just as comforting as ever. “There are still grand romances out there,” she whispers into my hair. “And you deserve the best of them.”

When she pulls away, both of us are blinking back tears. I didn’t realize until now how much I needed her to tell me it would all be okay—that she’s still the mom who would do anything for me, and I can still be the girl who believes in love, and even the hard things can be beautiful in the end.

“Now, bring him home next week so I can meet him, okay?” She raises an eyebrow, and her sharp gaze reminds me of the mom who raised me—never missing a trick. Maybe she still doesn’t, even with everything she’s dealing with this year.

I nod, laughing soggily, and Mom walks backward toward the exit so she can wave goodbye the whole way.

Kara—who’s been silently observing, holding the abandoned garment bag—tracks her as she goes. “I’m gonna text her a referral to my therapist,” she mutters under her breath. Then her eyes snap back to me. “Now. Were you really planning to wear jeans to homecoming?”

I frown, looking down at my running-errands outfit. “I was gonna figure something out? I haven’t finished my list! And it’s fine, I have time—”

“You do not have time.” Kara glares at me. “And I know you have a thousand things to do to get this dance ready, but I can read a to-do list as well as anyone else. Gimme.”

She holds out her hand, and I obediently place my phone, Notes app open, into her palm.

“Good. Now, Sabrina.” Kara grabs me by the shoulders, forcing me to stop and look her in the eye. “You are going to go into that locker room right now, and you are going to change. You are going to turn yourself into the princess you are, and then you’re going to come find me so I can do your makeup, because you still can’t get your cat-eye even after all these years. And then”—she swallows, as if gulping back sudden emotion—“and then you’re going to enjoy the event you’ve poured your heart and soul into, and we’re going to dance until our feet ache, and we’re going to take a million pictures, and we’re going to store up as many memories as we can. What’s the point of type-A-ing your way through life if you don’t ever slow down and enjoy the results?”

She blinks hard, then looks me dead in the eye with the focus of the girl who stretched a budget into the biggest event the school has ever seen, who carries extra eyeliner in her bag just for my touch-ups, who’s saved me from every dark moment over the last few years, even when I tried to keep the darkness far away from her. “You don’t have to do everything by yourself, you know.”

In her voice, I hear the unspoken reminder that not everyone’s like my dad—that there are a lot of people who are still by my side. Who only want to support me. Who are here for hard conversations and are glad when I tell them what I need. Between her and my mom and Ryan and Tyler most of all, I’m starting to think: Maybe I’ll call my dad back, and be honest with him, and give him a chance to make some amends. Maybe I’ll ask my mom if we can plan some time together, so I can catch her up and we can reconnect before this year is over and everything changes again. Maybe even if those conversations don’t go exactly as planned, they might not be as scary as I always thought they were.