Page 11 of Girl, Forgotten (Andrea Oliver 2)

“Don’t be gross. They do it before.” Andrea twisted open the cap on the water bottle. “Remember what you told me two years ago?”

Laura said nothing.

“On my birthday?”

Laura still said nothing, though neither of them would ever forget Andrea’s thirty-first birthday.

“Mom, you told me to get my shit together, move out of your garage and start living my life.” Andrea held out her arms. “This is what that looks like.”

Laura finally broke. “I didn’t tell you to join the fucking enemy.”

Andrea poked her tongue into her cheek. A ridgeline had formed along the inside of her mouth from clenching her teeth. She hadn’t thrown up in front of anybody. Not once. She was the second shortest student in the class, eking out an inch over Paisley at five-six. Both of them were fifty pounds lighter than the nearest guy, but they had both finished in the top ten percent and they had both just outrun over half of their class.

“Darling, is all of this Marshal bullshit some form of payback?” Laura asked. “You’re trying to punish me for leaving you out of the loop?”

Out of the loopwas an understatement, considering Laura had kept it hidden for thirty-one years that Andrea’s biological father was a psychopathic cult leader bent on mass murder. Her mother had even gone so far as to concoct an imaginary biological father who’d died in a tragic car accident. Andrea would probably still believe her lies if not for the fact that, two years ago, Laura had finally been backed into a corner and forced to tell the truth.

“Well?” Laura demanded.

Andrea had learned a very hard lesson over the last two years, and that was that saying nothing could be just as hurtful as saying everything.

Laura gave a heavy sigh. She wasn’t used to being on the other side of the manipulation. Her hands went to her hips. She looked back at the crowd, then up at the sky, then finally turned her gaze back on Andrea. “My love, your mind is so amazing.”

Andrea filled her mouth with cold water.

Laura said, “The willpower and drive you’ve shown to get here tell me that you could do almost any job you wanted to. And I love that. I love you for your grit and determination. I want you to do what you’re passionate about. But it can’t be this.”

Andrea swished the water around her mouth before spitting it out. “Clown school said my feet weren’t big enough.”

“Andy.” Laura stamped her foot in frustration. “You could’ve gone back to art school or become a teacher or even stayed at the nine-one-one call center.”

Andrea took a long swig of water. Thirty-year-old Andrea would’ve taken everything her mother said at face value. Now, she only saw misdirection. “So, more debt, being surrounded by bratty kids, or listening to senior citizens whine about their trash not being picked up for nine dollars an hour?”

Laura was undaunted. “What about your art?”

“That’s lucrative.”

“You love drawing.”

“The bank loves me paying off my student loans.”

“Your father and I could help—”

“Which father?”

The silence between them took on the texture of dry ice.

Andrea finished the water while her mother regrouped. She felt bad about taking that last swipe. Gordon had been—was still—an incredible father. Until recently, he was the only father Andrea had ever known.

“Well.” Laura turned her watch around on her wrist. “You should clean up. Graduation is in one hour.”

“I’m impressed you know the schedule.”

“Andy—” Laura caught herself. “Andrea. I feel like you’re running away from yourself. As if you think being in another town, doing this crazy, dangerous job, will make you a different person.”

Andrea wanted desperately for the lecture to end. Her mother of all people should have understood the need to blow up your life and build something more meaningful out of the ashes. Laura had not sought membership in a violent cult at the age of twenty-one because her life was in perfect balance. Nor had she turned in Andrea’s biological father to the police because she’d had an epiphany. And that wasn’t even accounting for two years ago, when she had gone ballistic at the mere thought of Andrea’s life being in danger.

“Mom,” Andrea said. “You should be happy that I’m on the inside.”