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“I never ask for anything,” I went on, my big speech rushing out and skipping over words I’d prepared. “I never complain when we have to pack all our things and rush out all of a sudden. I get straight A’s in school and have never gotten in trouble. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a pretty good kid. All I’m asking for, just this once, is one tiny hour of freedom.”

Mom stared down at her food, stoic. “I’m sorry, honey. The answer is no.”

Anger bubbled up under the surface, an anger I was so used to shoving back down. Mom was basically my best friend, but she was also a very secretive person. I’d been conditioned not to pry, not to complain, but I deserved an explanation, and I was tired of following the status quo she’d set.

“Why is the answer no?” I tried to sound like an adult deserving of the respect I was asking for and not like the indignant teenager I felt bristling on the inside. “Why don’t you ever let me even go into the backyard after sunset? What’s so scary about the dark?”

“We’re not having this discussion right now,” Mom said flatly, continuing to eat her food as if our talk was over.

“Then when?” I demanded, slamming my hand on the table. “I’m seventeen years old. I’m not just some child you can cart around the country with you anymore. I’m almost an adult, and I need to know why. Why do you hop around from place to place? Why can’t we do anything online? And what’s the deal with water? What are you so afraid of?”

“That’s enough, Arya!” she snapped.

The silence that ensued made me realize how loud my voice had gotten, making me feel very young and naïve now. I hated feeling so small, so helpless to control anything in my life. I wasn’t willing to just go with the flow anymore.

“Unless you can give me an explanation for your rules, I will no longer abide by them,” I declared in a low but strong voice.

A spark of panic lit Mom’s blue eyes, and there was a fear behind them that part of me believed had always been there, hiding.

“Did it ever occur to you that those rules exist to protect you?” A note of desperation raised the pitch of her voice.

“Protect me from what?”

I’d always suspected she was running from something, that something bad had happened to her that somehow related to night and water.

She stayed silent, looking at me with pleading eyes.

“If you have something to tell me, now would be the time,” I said firmly. “Whatever it is, I’m ready to listen.”

Her eyes fell to the floor, darting back and forth in deliberation. Anticipation sizzled in my chest like pop rocks in soda. Was I actually going to get to hear about Mom’s mysterious past?

I knew nothing about her history, grandparents, or extended family. I didn’t even know who my father was. Every time I asked, Mom always changed the subject. Was I finally going to get some clue, some missing piece of this almost empty puzzle?

Her eyes stopped their pacing and returned to meet my gaze, and I knew. She had decided to continue the secrecy.

I pushed away from the table and stood. “Then I’m going.”

“No, you can’t.” Mom jumped out of her chair.

“I’ll be back before midnight,” I asserted, pushing my chair into the table and heading for the door.

“Arya Lynn Walker, you are not leaving this house!” she yelled in her well-practiced maternal tone.

Some young, skittish side of me wanted to do as she said, to please her and avoid repercussions. But my determination to make a stand was behind the wheel, and I had no intention of turning around. Maybe this one act of mutiny would finally get her to confess something, anything.

I strode for the door, but Mom ran ahead of me and gripped the knob.

“Let me out,” I insisted, narrowing my eyes at her.

“I can’t do that.”

“Let me out!” I yelled. My voice sounded strangely musical, not my own.

Mom gasped and dropped her hand.

I was startled by the power of my own shout and ashamed that I had talked back so brazenly, enough to make her jump. But I had gone too far to give up now. Mom had released the door knob. I had to take my chance before the opportunity closed.

I rushed out, slamming the door behind me and running down the street. My pulse raced, my hands shaking as I pulled out my phone to dial Shea’s number and put the phone to my ear.