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“Did I tell you to do laundry?”

“No—I was just thinking it needed to be done,” I said, all innocence and smiles.

“The only thing you’re supposed to think about today is how sorry you are for upsetting me,” she said. “Is the bathroom spotless?”

“I still have more.”

“Get back in there,” she said, her voice low, her arm an exclamation point.

By the end of the day, I was one pissed off Cinderella, and whatever surface I was scrubbing at was my mother’s face. I wished I could figure out a way to run away, but where could I go if I did? I didn’t have Darius’s stash of money, or relatives in other states—my dad’s house didn’t ‘have room’ for us to even visit, muchless move in. If I went to Lacey’s, my mom would find me, same for Sarah, only it’d take a little longer. I knew what summer was like in Kansas—winter too. Neither of them were fit seasons for living outdoors. No one except for me gave a shit about my brain, and only pervs cared about my body. I groundmy teeth and scrubbed at a stain on our carpet harder, and then my mom stormed out, phone in hand.

Mine, not hers, I realized as she shook it at me. “Who are all these from?”

I blinked, and realized she’d meant the texts. “I don’t know.”

“Then why are they sending them?” She was still shaking my phone, like she could strangle the senders on the far side.

“They think that I’m the hacker that ruined prom.”

“Why on earth would they think that?”

“They’re idiots? I don’t know.” I rocked back onto my heels.

“Well—that’s enough of that.”

“Why?” I said, standing, my knees sore.

“Because we’re going to the police.”

I almost laughed, but caught myself in time. “And telling them what?” I asked, sounding sincere instead of sarcastic.

My mother paused, trying to come up with something rational.

“Mom, if I knew who they were, I’d’ve told you. As it is, I don’t think there’s anything the cops can do.”

“Is this why you’ve been acting weird?”

“Believe it or not, I’ve been trying to act normal.” I wiped pruning hands against my thighs. “High school’s changed a lot, Mom. It’s a lot harder now than it was when you went.”

“It was still pretty hard back then.”

I nodded. She looked as exhausted as I felt, and I knew I hadn’t been the only person crying last night. “I love you, Momma. Can this just be over? I don’t want to miss any more classes tomorrow.”

“You’re still grounded.”

“I know.”

She looked at my phone again. “You still want to go back there? After all this shit?”

“Amazingly, yes.”

“Sometimes, I think you’re even tougher than I am.”

I had thoughts on that that weren’t worth sharing. But I was sure navigating a smoke-filled bar every night letting drunk guys lech on me for tips wasn’t easy. “We’re tough in different ways.”

A portion of her anger wilted. “Finish up the living room floor then, and then read a book or something.”

“Thanks, Momma.”