With that, he leaned over like he was going to kiss me, only to pause, his eyes flicking toward the backseat.
Scoffing, I reached out and grabbed his face with both hands, planting a quick but firm kiss on his lips. I didn’t like PDA, but Ryan and Bee weren’t the public, and it wasn’t like they didn’t know we were dating.
Oh. Wait.
It wasn’t like Ryan didn’t know we were dating.
I looked back at Bee, who was watching me with her mouth slightly open. “Um. That is . . . another thing we should’ve mentioned,” I said, a little meekly, but Bee was already reaching for the door handle.
“One trauma at a time, please.”
David winced at that, but it made me feel better to hear a little of the old Bee in her voice. I gave him another quick kiss, this one on the cheek, and then stepped out of the car to stand next to Bee at the edge of my driveway.
Bee watched Ryan and David drive off into the night, and stepped close to me, our arms brushing. “Your life got weird,” she said after a long pause, and I thought of Alexander, of everything that might be coming.
“And getting weirder.”
Chapter 7
BEE WAS GONE when I woke up in the morning. A note left on my dresser said she’d walked home. Since her house was only a couple of blocks from mine, it wasn’t all that weird, but I still wished she’d hung around a little longer. It was like I needed to convince myself that she was okay. But I reminded myself that she definitely needed some Parental Time, and probably wanted to sleep in her own bed.
Mom was already up and making breakfast when I went downstairs, which was surprising. It was Sunday, which meant we went to the earlier church service, then out for breakfast afterward.
“Eggs?” she asked, gesturing to the pan on the stove.
The sight of them made me a little queasy; I’d never been a big breakfast person. So I shook my head and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. “No, thanks.”
Maybe it was my imagination, but I could have sworn Mom looked a little disappointed. Tucking her hair—dark like mine, but cut shorter—behind her ear, she turned back to the stove. “Okay. I could also make bacon? Ooh!” She set the spatula down on the trivet I’d made her at summer camp years ago. It was supposed to look like a frog, but something had happened in the kiln to turn it into more of a dark green amoeba. “How about pancakes?”
I glanced at the clock, then back at Mom, still in her robe. “Don’t we have church?”
She gave a little shrug, turning back to the stove. “I thought we might skip this Sunday. Spend some family time.”
With that, Mom turned back to the stove. The eggs had started to smoke a little, and she heaved a sigh as she scraped them around the skillet.
I frowned. Bad enough that things were weird with David right now. I wasn’t sure I could handle family problems on top of that. Maybe Mom wanted us to hang out because she needed to tell me she and Dad were separating, or she was sick, or . . .
I stood up, putting the apple back in the bowl. “Mom, is everything all right?”
She glanced over her shoulder at me. “As far as I know. Why?
The eggs were completely burned now, and Mom made a faint “tsking” sound as she moved the pan off the eye of the stove. My mom was traditional in so many ways—in the Junior League, taught Sunday school, wore makeup even if she was just staying home all day—but she was not the best cook.
“You never skip church,” I told her. “Or make breakfast. Or get up this early. So I thought maybe something was up.”
Mom dumped the eggs in the trash and put the pan in the sink. “It just seems like I never see you.” She crossed her arms, the delicate gold bracelet around her wrist flashing. It had belonged to my sister, and Mom had worn it ever since Leigh-Anne had died two years ago.
When I didn’t answer, Mom gave a rueful smile. “I guess missing you is to be expected with as busy as you are, but . . .” She trailed off, her eyes moving over my face. “I worry about you, sweetie.”
I crossed in front of the island in the center of the kitchen. “There’s nothing to worry about,” I said. I thought I sounded pretty convincing, given that I was lying through my teeth. I’d gotten good at lying over the past few months. It wasn’t something I was particularly proud of, but I didn’t see a way around it. The fewer people I loved who knew about Paladins and Oracles and Ephors and all the other crazy stuff that had taken over my life, the safer they’d all be.
“You’ve gone through so many changes recently,” Mom said, the corners of her mouth turning down.
You have no idea, I thought. What I said was, “Nothing major, though.”
Mom’s frown deepened. “‘Nothing major’? Harper, you broke up with the boy you’d been in love with for years, you started dating a boy we all thought you’d hated for years, and you hardly ever spend any time with Bee.” For a second, her eyes got slightly hazy, confusion wrinkling her brow. “Where is Bee, anyway? Didn’t she go somewhere?”
“She’s back,” I told her, not having to fake the brightness in my voice. “Remember, she was at cheerleading camp? She got back last night, actually.”
Some of the wrinkles around Mom’s brow eased. “Oh. Well, that’s nice. But Bee aside, I’m still concerned about you and Ryan. You seem happy, but—”
I squeezed her fingers. “I am happy. And Ryan and I still hang out; we’re friends. We just don’t date anymore.”
After a moment, Mom squeezed back. “Okay. But you promise everything is all right?” Smiling, she brushed my hair back from my forehead with her free hand. “You’re not going to suddenly dye your hair blue or start piercing things, are you?”
I shook my head with a little shudder. “Okay, the very thought of that makes me want to vomit. No.”
Mom laughed a little at that before wrapping me in a hug. “Well, there’s the Harper Jane I know.”
• • •
On Monday morning, I was heading out to my car when Bee’s white Acura came roaring up to the curb. She sat behind the wheel, her curly blond hair a cloud around her bright, smiling face, music blaring on the radio.
I smiled back, but something about her grin bothered me. It seemed . . . fake. Still, I made my way out to the car. “You offering me a ride?”