Page 81 of I Don't Need Your Protection

“Take it up with my parents.”

“You can pretend to hate his guts.”

“Who’s Bobby Wicker?” I ask.

“Just a guy Jemma and Luna are fighting over,” Clarissa says in a bored voice. “He’s not even that hot.”

“He’s hotter than your college tutor,” Luna says.

“You must be blind.”

She slows down before a mansion and the four of us get out. A staff member drives off to park it. This mansion is just as beautiful as my grandfather’s and Nila’s, but it’s a bit smaller.

“I know, right?” Clarissa says with a frown. “It’s so ugly. My mom wants to renovate the whole thing, but Dad refuses because it has ‘sentimental value.’” She makes air quotes. “So if you hear my parents bickering tonight, you’ll know what it’s about.”

“I’m sorry your parents are fighting,” I tell her.

She shrugs. “That’s normal. Don’t your parents ever argue?”

“They didn’t really, not often. I mean, no. They don’t really fight much.”

She shrugs again. “You’re lucky, I guess.”

“My parents’ divorce came out of nowhere,” Jemma tells me. “They didn’t argue or anything. They just woke up one morning and decided to split up.”

I touch her arm. “I’m sorry. That must have been so hard.”

“It was. But it was for the best, so I’m not upset about it.”

A staff member lets us into the house. The place is gorgeous, but Clarissa wastes no time pointing out all the areas she agrees with her mom that need to be changed. In my opinion, the place is exquisite, but what do I know?

“Hey, Clary, Luna, and Jem,” a woman who looks verysimilar to Clarissa greets us in the foyer. “And is this the new girl? Abbie, right?” She must be her mom.

“Addie,” I correct.

As she gazes at me and my outfit, I swear I see her nostrils twitch a little. As though she can detect just by looking at me that I’m not from her world. But she throws me a smile and says, “Well, you girls look so pretty tonight. Remember the rules, Clary. No sneaking out and no sneaking in boys.”

“Oh my gosh, Mom.” Clarissa rolls her eyes. “I know the rules. You don’t have to breathe down my neck every time I have friends over.”

“I was a teenager once. I know what goes on in those heads of yours.”

Clarissa groans and marches up the stairs, with Luna and Jemma hurrying after her.

“It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Thomas,” I tell her.

She smiles again. “You too, darling.”

I rush to catch up to the others, and Clarissa says, “Don’t mind my mom, Addie. She sucks the fun out of everything. She thinks I’m going to get into trouble like my sister.”

“Your sister?” I ask.

“She ran away with a boy they didn’t approve of and got married. I swear she has this irrational fear that I’ll run off with the cook’s son or something.”

We reach her room, which is set up with four beds, each one queen-sized and appearing very luxurious. “Wow,” I say.

The girls choose their beds, leaving the one next to the door for me. I drop my backpack on the bed and then falldown on it, marveling at how soft it is. Just like my bed at my grandfather’s house and my room at school.

The sleepover starts off like a typical one, the same I had with my old friends. After changing into pajamas, we do our nails while watching the latest teen drama, we try on the many clothes Clarissa has in her humongous closet (even bigger than mine), we play around with different kinds of makeup, browse social media, and of course we talk about boys.