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Shea scoffed. “This is the twenty-first century. Where’s your sense of female empowerment?”

“Stuck in the twentieth century, with mydumbphone,” I deadpanned, picking up my flip phone and waving it in the air.

“Your mom’s weird,” Shea commented. “No offense,” she added quickly.

“None taken,” I said with a long-suffering shrug. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

“I guess I can kinda understand the no-social-media thing,” she said, dipping another fry into her ranch puddle with one hand as she tapped the screen of her phone with the other. “Kids our age really shouldn’t spend so much time on their phones.”

“You’re literally on yours right now.”

“That’s my point!” She stuffed her phone into her pocket. “It’s addictive and horrible for your social skills. Why do you thinkI’mso unpopular?” She leaned back in her chair, throwing her half-eaten fry onto her plate.

“You’re not unpopular,” I argued. “You’re just…very blunt, and not everyone appreciates your unique brand of honesty.”

In appearance, there was no reason Shea shouldn’t be popular. She was a babe, not in a Barbie-doll sort of way, but in a real, authentic way that couldn’t be faked or bought.

Her chocolate brown hair had a natural rockstar wave that required little maintenance. And her angular face was prettyenough on its own that she never needed makeup, which was more than half the girls on the cheerleading squad could say. If popularity was just a beauty contest, Shea would definitely be at the top of the food chain.

But this was a small town, and everyone in school had grown up together. Shea spoke her mind and didn’t take crap from anyone. She wasn’t some lemming others could push around or some bee looking to follow a queen. It meant our peers didn’t mess with her, but it also meant they didn’t include her.

She dismissed the issue with a flippant wave of her hand. “It’s whatever. But we’re talking about you and your rules right now.”

I chewed on my lip, really wishing she’d drop it. I liked talking about the rules as much as I liked having to follow them.

“I might even get the after-dark rule. Maybe your mom’s afraid you’ll get abducted or something. Orrr,” she added, dragging out the word, “your mom’s a spy. No–a superhero! That’s it. All her enemies are out to get her, and she’s afraid they’ll snatch you for ransom or something. You said you guys move every few months, right?”

I shook my head as I picked sesame seeds off the bun of my neglected burger. “I’ve considered every scenario you can think of. My mom is too clumsy to be a spy and not nearly strong enough to be a superhero. I’ve wondered if she might be in the Witness Protection Program, but if she was, I’d know, right? It’s not like we change our names on a regular basis.”

“So you have no idea why you guys move around so much?” Shea pried, looking like a fox trying to lure out its prey.

“Nope,” I sighed. “I stopped asking years ago because she never gives me a straight answer. For all I know, it’s something stupid, like she owes someone money. She doeshave loads of it, even though I’ve never known her to hold a job.”

“Really?” Shea’s hazel eyes sparkled with intrigue.

I’d never told a friend this much about my personal life, and a strange sort of guilt twisted in my belly for betraying my mom’s trust in such a way. But there was something about Shea that made me want to confide in her. I’d kept all this bottled up for so long, it felt freeing to finally share it with someone.

As if sensing my discomfort on the tangent we’d taken, Shea went back to posing theories. “She could be something else. Like a werewolf. Or a vampire.”

I choked on my clearly ill-timed sip of soda and laughed. “Seriously?”

“Oh, right. You don’t go out after dark. Werewolf it is.”

“Yep, that must be it.” I chuckled. The thought of my beautiful, dainty mother sprouting fur and howling at the moon was so ludicrous I had to push my can of soda away to avoid the risk of it coming out of my nose.

“So, tonight. You’re going,” Shea pushed.

I frowned, the weight of my mother’s expectations dragging the corners of my mouth.

Of course, I wanted to go. I hadn’t been to a party since elementary school, when everyone had their birthday parties at lunch time. A real high school party sounded like the event of a lifetime, which in itself was super pathetic. My chest burned with the desire to go. But Mom would never, ever, in a million years, let me leave the house after sunset.

“I really do want to,” I began.

“I know there’s a ‘but’ coming, so save it,” Shea interjected. “If your mom won’t let you go, then I say you should sneak out.”

“I’ve tried that. She always catches me in the act, like she’s psychic.”

Shea pushed her tongue into her cheek. “Then you’re clearly doing it wrong. But, you’ve never had a partner in crime before. I could distract her while you creep out your bedroom window.”