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“He lied, Elsie. I’m disappointed in you for not picking up on it.”
“I—” I exhale, stepping out of the building. “He seemed sincere.”
“That’s why you need tocome homeand help me sort this out. I have been so tense and jittery. My poor nerves.”
“Mom, I can’t. I don’t have a car, for one. And I have classes.”
“Just find a substitute teacher.”
“That’s not—I’m not—Mom.” I spot Jack’s car. It’s freezing cold. Every instinct yells at me to first finish my conversation, but I cannot resist getting in. The seat is already heated, Jack’s hair still shower damp, curling in soft wisps on his neck. He looks freshly shaved and smells divine—like soap they sell in fancy boutiques and the hollow of his throat when I slept nestled in his arms.
One minute, I mouth. He nods. Mom’s going on about how Lance is misunderstood, Lucas is sensitive, Dad is busy with work, and the mean ladies at church are sure to be rejoicing in the downfall of the once-esteemed Hannaway household. Meanwhile, Jack studies me through my open coat. My dress hits only about midthigh when I’m sitting. His eyes follow the line of the hem, stop on my knees. Linger for a longer-than-polite moment. Then his Adam’s apple bobs, and he turns away. His shoulders rise, then fall, and then he’s driving out of the parking lot, looking anywhere but at me.
Oh.
“Mom, I have to go. I’ll call them both tomorrow and talk them out of... illegal stuff, at the very least—”
“You can’t solve this at a distance.”
I sigh. “I’ll do my best. Honestly, I’m not sure I can solve this at all. I’m not sureanyonecan.”
Mom gasps, outraged. “How can you be soselfish, Elsie?”
I exhale slowly. “I don’t think I’m being selfish. I’ll help as soon as I’m able, but they’re both beyond listening to anything I—”
“Unbelievable,” she says, and then... nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
“Jack?” I say.
“Yes?”
“If I’m talking with someone and out of the blue I hear the busy signal... what does it mean?”
He gives me a look. “Sounds like you already know.”
“Oh my God.” I’m dumbstruck. “My mom just hung up on me.”
He nods. “Should I be shocked? Is that something that doesn’t happen in functional families?”
“I... don’t know. Does your father hang up on you?”
“Does my father have my number?”
I laugh, and we exchange a half-clueless, half-amused glance. Peas in a pod, really. “It’s a first.” My stomach feels heavy. “She usually likes me. Or pretends to, anyway.”
Jack looks at me with his restingI see youface. I’m not used to Mom beingthismad at me. It feels terrible, like my entire soul is passing a kidney stone, and suddenly the idea of going out to dinner holds zero appeal.It’ll be good, I tell myself.You like his friends. Laughter is the best medicine. Or opiates.
“Want to tell me what happened?” he asks gently, twisting the car through Boston’s narrow one-ways.
“My family is... embarrassing.”
“More so than a dozen people in monogrammed shirts vulture-circling a ninety-year-old in the hope that she’ll drop dead and a few wads of cash will roll in their direction?”
“My family would do the same, if there were any money to be had. If something happened to my grandma, my brothers would beat each other up over the six-pack of beer she left in the fridge.”
“Is that what they’re fighting about? Beer?”
