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Schy groaned. “Good Lord, Gracie. I can’t believe this. You moved to Southeast only to turn into Bridget?”

“Oh, honey,” Bridget cheered. “Welcome to the dark side. Isn’t philosophizing everything addictive?”

I winced. Did I really sound like Bridget when she fell into thinker-mode? “Okay, maybe I worded that wrong. I meant my personality. What color of a person am I?”

“Grace, if you don’t get off that phone right now, I’m taking it away from you for good.” My mother bulldozed her way into my room, her eyes flashing with anger.

“You better go,” Bridget said.

“Yeah,” Schy echoed. “She sounds mad.”

“Bye,” Adam called just as their line disconnected.

“Bye,” I mumbled back, and tossed my phone onto the mattress beside me. My stare frosted over as I met my mother’s gaze. “I’m off,” I announced in a snide voice.

She folded her arms over her chest and glared back. “Good. So go start supper.”

I huffed out a reluctant sigh and pushed to my feet, leaving my phone on the bed before brushing past her on my way out of the room.

It wasn't as if I’d never made supper before. When it had only been the two of us, Mom and I switched off every other night. Her marrying Barry hadn’t stopped that except now he took his turn as well. He wasn’t much of a chef and usually ordered some kind of delivery, but it was nice that I only had to put up with kitchen duty once every three nights instead of every other night.

I whipped up a quick batch of spaghetti. Wasn’t hard. Boil noodles, brown some ground beef, open a can of spaghetti sauce, and mix the three together. It came out better than anything Barry had ever cooked, though I felt bad thinking that. He really did try.

Once I had the table set and added some garlic bread—which was simply sandwich bread slices cut diagonally with butter and garlic powder on top, cooked a few minutes in the toaster oven—I called Mom and Barry in to eat.

They poured their own drinks—water for Barry, milk for Mom—and we sat together in silence. As the meal began, the occasional tinkle of silverware against a plate was the only sound filling the room. I glanced at the newlyweds, wondering if they’d be more comfortable with me absent. Yet another place I didn’t belong. I hadn’t thought about stuff like this when my mom had told me she was getting married. But now that it was here, and the three of us were actually living together, I couldn’t help but feel like the odd girl out. The extra wheel. The party crasher.

They’d probably be more relaxed the rest of the night if I went to the game. That’s what made up my mind to actually go more than anything.

After taking a quick drink of iced tea, I cleared my throat. “There’s a home game at Southeast tonight,” I hedged. “I’d like go if I could.”

Mom jerked her head up as if surprised I wanted to talk. After picking her napkin off her lap to dab at her mouth, she said, “Oh? What kind of game?”

I nearly rolled my eyes. What kind of game? Was she serious? I almost sneered something sarcastic like, “Baseball, because all high schools play baseball in the winter,” but I managed to refrain myself and politely said, “Basketball.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Since when have you liked basketball?”

Since never. But how was that the point? So here came the tricky part. “Actually, a group of people get together after the game and hang out. They invited me to join them tonight.”

She smiled. “Really? See, you’re making friends already.”

I smiled too, a forced, stiff smile. “Yeah. And I really need my curfew to be extended to midnight if you don’t mind.” I rushed my last request so it all sounded like one, big jumbled word.

Mom’s smile died flat. “Absolutely not.”

“Mom,” I cried. “They all get to stay out that late. I’ll look like a total dork if I have to go home at ten. Do you want me to be a dork? Do you want me to be friendless for the rest of my high school career?”

She closed her eyes and rubbed at her forehead with a sigh. “Dear Lord. Why do high school girls have to act so dramatic?”

If she wanted drama, I could easily deliver, but I held my patience and said, “If I can’t go to Hillsburg, fine. But if you’re going to force me to continue attending Southeast, then I’m going to have to somehow make friends or I’ll be a social pariah. You don’t want your only child to be a lonely outcast, do you?”

Rolling her eyes as if she still considered me to be overly dramatic, which, okay, I might’ve been a little, she muttered, “What in Go

d’s name do you plan on doing until midnight?”

“Honestly, Mom. What’re you so worried about? There’s nothing I couldn’t do after ten that I can’t do before it.”

Across the table from me, Barry laughed. “The girl’s got you there, Kate.”