Page 13 of Broken Secrets

I trail off, not sure how to finish the sentence. Not sure what I’m even feeling.

“We should probably get to class,” Derek says, but he doesn’t move to get out of the car.

“Probably.”

Neither of us moves.

“Liv?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you want to go to winter formal with me? Even if everything else is crazy right now?”

I look at him. Derek Lance, who’s been my friend for years, who made me grilled cheese when I was falling apart, who’s offering to be there for whatever comes next.

“Yes,” I say. “I’d really like that.”

His smile is like sunshine breaking through clouds.

The day passes in a blur of classes and assignments, but I feel lighter somehow. Having something to look forward to, someone who wants to be there for me, makes even the difficult stuff feel more manageable.

During fourth period study hall, Mr. Henderson calls me up to his desk.

“Ms. Kline, I don’t seem to have your permission slip for the Catalina Island trip. The deadline was yesterday.”

My stomach drops. “My mom said she dropped it off yesterday.”

He shuffles through a stack of papers on his desk, frowning. “Nope, I have everyone but yours.”

“Maybe it got mixed up with someone else’s papers?”

“I’ll check with the main office, but if we don’t find it by the end of the day, you won’t be able to go on the trip. School policy.”

I nod and slink back to my seat, pulling out my phone to text Mom.

ME

Mr. Henderson says he doesn’t have my permission slip. Can you check if you actually turned it in?

Mom

Of course I turned it in! Check lost and found or something. Can’t talk now, in a meeting.

Can’t talk now. The story of my life.

Maya slides into the seat next to me. “Everything okay? You look like you’re about to murder someone.”

“My mom forgot to turn in my permission slip. Now I might not be able to go to Catalina.”

“That sucks. Want me to text my mom? She could probably call the school and vouch for you or something.”

The offer is sweet, but it highlights how messed up this whole situation is. Maya’s mom would drop everything to help fix this problem. My mom can’t even be bothered to double-check she did what she said she did.

“Thanks, but it’s fine. I’ll figure it out.”

But I won’t figure it out, because there’s nothing to figure out. Mom either forgot to turn it in, or turned it in somewhere else, or got distracted and left it in her car. Either way, I’m going to miss out on something I was looking forward to because the one adult in my life I’m supposed to be able to count on, let me down.

Again.