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We climbed into the car, and Mom let her head fall backagainst the seat without starting the engine. “You messed up, kid.”

I ran a balled fist under my eyes to get rid of the stubborn tears that forced their way out. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll stop the locker.”

“Uh,yes, that is a given. And you’ll give a refund to everyone you gave advice to.”

I blanched. “I can’t! I’ve spent most of it.”

“You’re just going to have to save up.”

“Well, I’ll be saving ’til I’m thirty, then, because I’ve been getting about ten letters a week.”

“Ten letters a—aweek? You’ve been giving sex advice to ten students every week?”

“Notsex,” I said. “Relationships. Like Oriella.”

Mom barked a laugh. “Darcy, you aresixteen years old,you don’t know enough about relationships to charge people for advice!”

I was seventeen next week. Mom always did that. Rounded my age up when she thought I wasn’t doing enough, and rounded it down when she thought I was doing too much.

“Well apparently I do, because they kept coming back,” I said defensively. “I research everything. I’m not just making it up.”

“What kind of advice have you been giving the students at our school, exactly?”

I shrugged and looked out the passenger window, even though we weren’t moving. “All sorts. How to set boundaries, what to do if your friends don’t like your new boyfriend, how to tell your girlfriend you’re unhappy without hurting her feelings. That kind of stuff.”

Mom shook her head. “Unbelievable. You’re not a therapist. You can’t counsel people!”

“I wasn’tcounseling.What about advice columns?”

“They’re public opinion posts, with disclaimers. That’s freedom of the press. There are rules about who can counsel to keep everyone safe, Darcy.”

I folded my arms and frowned. “I don’t see how I was putting students in danger. Last time I checked, telling someone how to use friendly body language or how to make your partner feel respected isn’t high-risk stuff.”

“Yes, but you’re still giving advice that you are unqualified to give, and accepting payment for that advice with no liability or indemnity terms. Which is, incidentally, why we tend to frown upon teenagers starting their own business while hiding it from all the adults in their lives, because you don’t have acluewhat you’re doing from a legal standpoint!”

“Well, it’s fine, because nothing went wrong, and now it’s over.”

“Sounds like alotwent wrong this morning!”

“That was not my fault.”

“News flash, Darc, when you offer confidentiality in exchange for payment, it becomes your responsibility to ensure that confidentiality. If you didn’t do everything within your power to keep that information safe, that’s absolutelygrounds for complaint.”

This was a nightmare. I was going to get sued, and we’d lose everything. That, or someone would involve the police, and I’d get arrested. I didn’t know what for, exactly, but there was probably some law I wasn’t aware of that covered leaking information. Then they’d find out what I did with Ray and it’d be all over.

I couldn’t hold the tears back any longer.

Mom glanced sideways at me, caught sight of my expression, and softened just a touch. “You’re right, though,” shesaid, her voice still firm. “You did get lucky that nothing worse happened. Itcould’vebeen a lot worse. As it stands, miss, we will be issuing a notice through the school that anyone who would like a refund can come to see me. I’ll organize that, and you can pay me back. If it takes you fourteen more years, so be it.”

“I don’t see why we need to offer refunds to everyone. I did what they paid me to do.”

“Damage control,” Mom said simply.

All the work I’d done over the last few years. All of it, over. Everything I’d earned, turned into debt. No more locker. No more advice. No more warm glow when I’d solved a tricky problem. No more knowing I’d helped people with no one else to turn to.

It was all done.

“And it goes without saying that you’re grounded,” Mom said. “And I’m out of town for the ninth-grade science camp tomorrow night. I don’t know if I can trust you anymore. Do we even have trust between us?”