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I didn’t stop to think what it would look like, a girl crammed in a smallish car with four teenage boys.

Over the years, my mom and I had had conversations about safe sex, saying no , and that kind of thing, but I hadn’t thought that she was much interested in the things I did, the people I hung out with, or my life in general.

Because mom was still working the night shift, she didn’t usually wake up until an hour or two after my arrival home on the bus, and it was rare for her to be awake before.

And even though I got home a little bit later than if I’d ridden the bus, mom should have still been in bed, so I didn’t think a thing about being late.

“See ya tomorrow,” Zack said, holding his arm out the window and waving, and I waved back. As I watched him drive away, I waited until the car was out of sight before turning, and I tried not to smile as I tripped my way up the walk toward the house.

I couldn’t stop thinking about his embrace earlier.

While I’d smelled the vodka on his breath, I’d also inhaled the scent of his cologne, a spicy masculine scent, and I could recall the sensation of his body pressing into mine.

He was solid, like a rock, over every inch—not like how my body that had soft spots here and there.

And he was warm, almost hot, and even though I didn’t want it to end, I’d felt a little self-conscious that the other guys were watching.

Before I continued the rest of my day, I wanted to emblazon all those sensations into my memory bank, because I never wanted to forget how he’d felt the first time he’d held me close.

It didn’t matter if he was going to pretend it wasn’t going to happen.

As I reached into my backpack for my key, it hit me.

I was falling in love—complete head over heels—for my best friend. Yes, that was who Zack was now, my very closest friend, but I couldn’t deny to myself just how far I had fallen. Was it something that could be seen on my face?

It couldn’t be helped—and I was all but giddy. A silly grin remained plastered on my face as I walked up the two steps toward the front door—but it opened before I could insert the key. “Oh, hi, mom,” I said, not thinking about anything other than the last hour.

Zack.

“Get in here right now.”

Oh. Mom sounded… mad .

“What’s wrong, mom?”

“ What’s wrong? Girl, have you not learned a single thing I’ve taught you?”

“ What? ” I felt myself becoming defensive, an emotion I didn’t experience frequently.

“Let’s talk.” Obediently, I followed her into the kitchen, feeling like a dog tucking its tail between its legs, still unsure what it did wrong.

“Sit down.” I sat at my usual place at the table, trying to ignore the feeling of dread spreading like a shadow inside my body as she took a pitcher of tea out of the fridge, pouring us two glasses.

I held my tongue, because I was tempted to ask the very same question I’d asked moments ago: what’s wrong .

It couldn’t have been about my grandparents.

Mom was far too calm for that. And it probably had nothing to do with her job or the neighbors.

What was it? I wouldn’t be able to figure it out until she spoke.

My mother, a woman with brown hair turning gray at the temples, porcelain skin, and tired eyes, worked harder than most women I knew and some of her jobs had been things most people wouldn’t want to do, like washing dishes, doing laundry, or cleaning hotel rooms. But nowadays she was a CNA working nights at the hospital in Dalton.

She usually worked five nights a week that varied, but sometimes she’d work six if she wanted to pick up extra work.

If the weather was crappy in the winter, the seven-mile drive sometimes took her close to half an hour due to high winds, icy roads, and poor visibility.

But this afternoon she looked more tired than usual.

“Why didn’t you ride the bus home?”

I touched my glass. It was cool underneath my fingers, and condensation was already starting to form.

The brown liquid looked inviting, but I didn’t want to drink it.

Somehow, it seemed inappropriate. Mom was pretty upset and I had no interest in quenching my thirst. I partially understood why she wasn’t happy, but it seemed disproportionate.

After all, I was home way before dark. “Because my friend Zack wanted me to listen to what his band’s been doing. ”

“Zack?”

I didn’t want to lose my patience, because seeming exasperated wouldn’t do me any favors with my mother, but it wasn’t like I hadn’t told her about them. “Yeah. He’s my friend. Him and Braden. ”

A frown emphasized the fatigue in her face. “I guess you’ve mentioned them before. It just—” Sucking sucked down a breath, she picked up her tea glass, sipping a little before setting it back down again. “Your friends are boys?” When I nodded, she followed up with “What happened to Ava?”

I’d tried to tell her all this stuff before but she’d been busy or tired. Still, I didn’t want to say that. And I didn’t want to talk about any of it. I was much happier now than I’d been a few years earlier, a tiny mouse under Ava’s thumb. “She’s a cheerleader now.”

“Oh.” Mom’s tone made it sound like I’d actually explained it all, but I knew better. Apparently, she had a lot to process. “So you said Zack and— Braden ?” I nodded. “But there were more than two boys in that car.”

“Yes, that’s his whole band.”

“And you were listening to them play?” I nodded. “So why were they all riding home with you?”

“‘Cause Zack was giving the other guys a ride home, too.” I didn’t know if that was actually true, but I didn’t know why we were all crammed in his car. I was simply grateful for the ride.

“Oh.” Her features softened a little, but I had no idea what to expect next. After at least half a minute of cold silence, she said, “Here’s the thing, honey. You in a car with four boys—it’s dangerous.”

“ Dangerous? ”

“Yes. Those boys are what? Sixteen? Seventeen? They’re cauldrons of hormones just ready to bubble over. Explode, actually.”

“Not—”

“Yes, even your friends. And I don’t want you putting yourself in compromising situations like that.”

“Mom, Zack would never—”

“Maybe not Zack by himself, but…” She sighed again, her eyes focused on the oven not two feet away from where I sat.

Bu t she looked back at me when she spoke.

“You get boys in groups and they act like a pack of wolves.” I got ready to protest again but knew better.

Maybe, just maybe, my mom really did know more than I thought I did.

“There’s a movie we’ll watch this weekend.

It’s called The Accused and it shows how mob mentality works.

You’re not safe by yourself with four boys, honey.

Now, maybe if your friend Zack is like a big brother who’d protect you with his life, that might be different. ”

No, Zack was not like a big brother, and I never wanted him to think of himself that way.

I was growing more and more interested in him as a boyfriend—just moments earlier, I’d realized just how deep my feelings had grown.

But even in that regard, I wanted to think he’d protect me with his life , as my mother had put it.

I felt a little ashamed. I realized mom had only wanted to scare me into being smart but, instead, she’d made me feel stupid and embarrassed. I let my head hang, not willing to fight anymore.

“If Zack wants to drive you around, I want to meet him. And then if he wants to take you somewhere by himself, that’s fine.

But I want to meet him first.” I didn’t protest; instead, I was trying to figure out how to break the news to my friend—that my mother wasn’t interested in me but still overly protective and distrusting of my friends.

Ava had been damaging to my psyche and yet she’d been okay to hang out with for years.

I found out after watching the movie with my mother that weekend that she’d been raped by several boys at Dalton High back when she’d been my age. She’d never told a soul, not my grandparents or anybody. That made me sad and angry for her—and more forgiving.

But these guys were my friends. The more I hung with the new guys, the more I felt like Parker was a bit of a dick and Cyrus was a little arrogant for no good reason, but they weren’t sex-hungry rapists. None of them even seemed to view me as female, so there wasn’t anything to worry about.

And I wasn’t going to subject Zack to my mother. I had no idea what she’d say or do, and I wasn’t prepared to deal with any of that.

Throughout the rest of the year, Zack stopped coming to Chess Club as often and that broke my heart, but he did invite me to his house more and more, not just for practice but to show me what he was working on.

He didn’t hug me again but he gave me plenty of rides home.

I never told him about what my mom said—but I think he probably got the message when I asked him to start dropping me off two blocks away at the bus stop.

What mom didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

And, if I was lucky, it wouldn’t hurt me, either.

By the beginning of summer before our senior year, I was driving. Mom no longer insisted that I stay with my grandparents during the summer, but they’d asked if I wanted a job, because their friend’s son was hiring a bagger at his little hometown grocery store.

I took it and stayed till the Friday before school started.

And I didn’t hate the work, but I wasn’t used to putting in forty hours a week.

Still, at minimum wage, I saved up enough to buy a used car, an old silver Subaru, right before school started.

Grandpa told me as long as I kept my grades up, he’d pay my insurance and also send me a little money every month for gas.

Deal.