“Lana? You alright?” Grant sounds concerned, not recognizing it was his words that got caught in my throat.
I slowly recover from my coughing fit. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. They’re bringing my things to move me into the dorms in a couple weeks,” he explains, his optimism unaffected by my what-the-fuck reaction. “And they want to meet you.”
“You told them about me?” I can’t even imagine how he described me. I’ve never been the girl guys take home to meet their parents. Come to think of it, I’ve never met anyone’s parents other than Tori’s … and Niall doesn’t count.
“Of course.”
“When?”
“Pretty much right after we met. You … left an impression.”
“I was ridiculous when we first met. I could barely speak around you.”
Grant chuckles fondly at the recollection. “You were adorable. Still are. I know it’s unexpected, but will you think about it?”
I close my eyes and scrunch my face, silently cursing. “Fine. I’ll meet your parents.”
“Thank you.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and somehow, that makes the torture a little more bearable.
“I should go. They’re about to kick us off with their nightly check-in.” I plop down on my bed, the phone in my hand.
“You know, now that you told me about Black—”
“Don’t,” I interrupt. “This is their phone, remember?”
“Right. Forgot that paranoia’s our friend.”
“Sadly.”
“Sophia!” I holler when I spot her in the Court the next morning.
But she disappears around a corner without looking back. I jog after her. It’s too fricken hot to be chasing after people today. Just as I catch sight of her again, my phone rings. When I discover who’s calling, I stop. My heart does as well.
“Mom? Everything okay?”
“Hi, Lana,” she greets me cheerily. “Are you busy?”
I peel my tank top from my sweaty skin, watching Sophia disappear on the other side of a garden inspired by Candy Land or Willy Wonka. Human-sized lollipops and gumdrops litter the grass in vibrant rainbow hues. “No. I’m free. How are you?” I stand in the shadow of a chocolate bar, seeking some relief from the blistering July sun. If I keep walking while on the phone, I know I’ll get lost, and will probably melt.
“You’ll be happy to know that I went to the doctor, and I’m on new medication. I already feel so much better and have a ton more energy. No migraines since I started taking them either.”
“That’s great.” That relentless knot of worry reserved specifically for my mother loosens slightly. “How’s everything else? Work okay? Did you pay the electric bill last week?”
She laughs like I’m being ridiculous. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about me.”
Easier said than done. For the last couple of years, stressing about my mother has felt like my life’s mission. Maybe she’s finally ready to take care of herself. Maybe.
“I wanted to let you know I’ll be seeing you this weekend,” she announces excitedly. “I’m driving up with Niall and Olivia on Saturday. We’re all having dinner together.”
“Wow, really?” I respond in shock. I guess I gave up on ever seeing anyone from Sherling until I was allowed to leave Blackwood. It feels like I’m living two totally separate lives.
Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Can I … bring someone?”
“Who? A boy?” She sounds hopeful.
I brace myself, knowing she’s been dying for this to happen. “His name’s Grant. I met him at work. And he’s … pretty great.”
“Omigod. I’ve been waiting so long. I’m so happy for you, Lana,” she says, practically choking with exuberance. “I was so afraid that you’d never … that I might’ve ruined you. This is so exciting!”
I hold the phone away from my ear until her excitement returns to a normal volume. “Um, Mom, it’s just dinner. Let’s not get crazy.” Desperate to talk about anything else, I ask, “Have you seen Tori or Nina? I haven’t been allowed to talk to them since I’ve been here. I wanted them to know where I am.”
“Oh, no, I haven’t,” she says regretfully.
“They haven’t stopped by?” I ask, her answer striking me as odd.
“Not when I’ve been home. Were they supposed to?”
“Oh,” I breathe out, unable to keep the weight of disappointment from filtering through. But it feels even heavier than that. “I asked them to check on you while I was away.” I really thought my friends understood how important that was to me. I guess they didn’t.
“That’s sweet of you. But I’m much better. Olivia’s been helping me. You remember Olivia, don’t you?”
“Mrs. Harrison?” My tone doesn’t hide my surprise or confusion. “No, I’ve … never met her.”
“You were too young to remember. I used to take you over there when you were a baby. We … lost touch a while back.” I note the awkward hesitation. “She came by after you left and has been so kind.”
“That’s … good,” I reply, suspicious. It all seems a little convenient that she chose now to reconnect. I’m about to ask how exactly Mom knows the Harrisons, but when I look up from scuffing my shoe in the grass, I find Brendan standing in front of me. I glare back. “I have to go, but it’ll be good to see you.”
“You too. Do you need me to bring anything?”
My birth certificate, I want to say. “No. I think I’m good.”
“Bye, Lana.”
“Bye, Mom.”
It’s like we’re having a staring contest. Or Brendan’s trying to re-create one of the nightmares I had about him over the weekend. He’s as composed as ever, not affected by the heat or anything else.
“What do you want?” I ask, my voice frigid.
“You’re mad at me,” he says, stating an obvious fact. “Because of what I said about Ashton.”
“For so many reasons, but that’s one of them,” I bite back. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”
He smirks like I amuse him. “I’m not avoiding you.” He takes a few steps closer and leans against a rubbery green gumdrop. “Did you tell Ashton what I said?”
“No. I’m not that cruel. She’s better off not knowing.” I continue to glower at him, my arms crossed tight. I fight to ignore the sweat trickling down my neck, pasting my hair to my damp skin. “You claim to love her, but you really have no idea how.”
“But you’re an expert, right? Because Mr. Integrity’s in your life?” His tone is mocking, and I want to shove his head through the gooey green gumdrop, not caring if it’s fake.
I lift my chin in defiance. “I don’t know. Maybe I suck at it too. But at least I’m honest with him.”
He chuckles, like I’m a child without a clue about how the world works. “Really? Completely one hundred percent honest?”
“I’m an open book, and he’s read all the pages.” I know I’m being completely juvenile, playing into his taunting, but he just … makes me want to scream!