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I’ve never actually seen her repeat an outfit, so maybe I’m assuming for no reason.

“Kara,” I call to her as she reaches my front door.

She faces me as she pulls it open, and I’m frozen.

“What? I thought I was supposed to be in a hurry.”

I slowly lift my hand to show her what I’m holding. Oblivious to everything else, she rolls her eyes.

“I’ll come back when I’ve sufficiently made up for all the hours of sleep you cost me last night.”

When she turns back around, she comes face to face with my smiling mother. My dad is standing a couple steps further behind, looking everywhere but at us. The paint on the walls, the tiles on the roof, the boards under his feet…everywhere.

Kara’s feet are stuck to the floor where she stands, and although I can’t see her face anymore, I know she’s mortified. I wastryingto prevent this, but she just had to waste time arguing.

I place a hand on her shoulder.

“Do you want to go back to my room and put your pants on?” I whisper.

She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even nod. She turns and pushes past me, only grabbing said pants from my hands.

As soon as I hear my bedroom door shut, I groan.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“I messaged you, honey.”

“Was that supposed to be an explanation, because I couldn’t even tell. You should take a class on how to use emojis, because they don’t belong in the middle of words.”

She waves a hand, dismissing what I’ve said.

“Life’s too short. Who’s your friend?”

That’s a topic we’re not broaching today.

“You didn’t come here to talk about my friend. What’s up?”

Instead of answering, she walks inside. I smile at my dad as he follows behind her.

“How ya doin’, kiddo?”

“Great!” I tell him. “Only thing that would make me feel any better is knowing what this random visit is about! I have work in an hour.”

“You should’ve planned this better, honey. Maybe you’d benefit from one of those whiteboard calendars!” my mom exclaims.

She holds her hands up like a frame over a blank space on my wall.

“I didn’t plan anything, what are you talking about?”

“Well, you forgot to mention it so I can’t say I’m surprised.”

There’s a knock at my door.What the hell is going on?

“Oh, good! They’re not late. You should make it to work on time just fine.”

“Who arethey?” I yell, but she doesn’t answer.

Instead, she does what she does best and starts opening cabinets in my kitchen, inspecting my groceries. The amount of times I’ve had to listen to her scold me about not buying organic, non GMO products is getting to be insane. I’m never going to change, a normal mom would have given up by now.