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“So I had a few drinks. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Darla, what did you tell Allie about where you were going?”
She picks at her napkin. “That I was spending the night at Aunt Marti’s.”
“Spending the night?” My chair falls over when I stand up too quickly. “As in you were planning on staying out all night?”
“I… I don’t know. I guess it was stupid.”
I scoff. “Ya think?” I right my chair and sit back down, dreading the answer to my next question. “And where did you end up sleeping?”
“Here. I slept here.”
“And how did that come about?”
“I called Allie to pick me up.”
She called Allie?For a moment, I’m happy that she felt she could trust Allie enough to call her. But that happiness turns to disgust when I think of all the things that could have led to her calling the one person I’m one hundred percent sure she didn’t want to have to call.
“What happened at the party that made you call her? Did a boy do something—”
“Nobody did anything. It just got crazy. Some of the kids started playing strip poker.”
“So Allie picked you up? What time?”
She shrugs. “I can’t remember. After midnight I think.”
“How much did you drink?”
She shrugs again.
“How much, Darla? Did you get sick?”
She nods.
“A lot?”
She nods.
“Good. Maybe you’ll think twice about doing it again.”
“Am I in trouble?”
I throw my hands up in frustration. “Yes, you’re in trouble. Jesus, Bug.”
She glances over at the doorway. “It’s all her fault.”
“Allie?You think this isAllie’sfault? Grow the hell up. I’m so goddamn tired of you blaming her for everything bad in your life. It’s not her fault she got pregnant. It’s not her fault I love her so much I want to marry her. It’s not her fault you and Mel live across the country from each other. And it’s definitely not her fault that you chose to lie to her, put yourself in danger, and then presumably try to convince her not to tell me. Do you realize the position you put her in?”
“She’s not my mother. She never will be.”
She stomps off toward her room.
“We’re not done here!” I follow her up, pressing my foot in the door before she can close it.
She falls onto her bed, crying. “Why does she have to go and ruin everything? Everything was perfect before her.”
Torn between consoling her and yelling at her, I sit on the edge of her bed. “Everythingwasn’tperfect, honey. Mel was still moving. You still wanted to go to a different school.”