“No? No.” I shook my head. “I’ll finish. I’m just pissed that my new friends outed me. I’m pissed that I spent lunch in Mrs. Wong’s office and then had to run from class to class so people wouldn’t stop me in the hall to get the scoop. I’m pissed I had to avoid eye contact with everyone or I’d see everyone staring at me. I’m pissed I don’t know stuff about what’s going to happen to me and my body, and about this Saturday program thing, and at Mormor. I’m just... I’m mad.”

Mom nodded and reached out to pat my stomach through my pants, her palm rubbing over it in circles. It felt nice, and a microscopic amount of tension eased out of me. “Pissed is better than sad, but pissed can become sad. You know I’m here. I’m listening. I don’t want you to do the Saturday program if it’s going to make you unhappy. That said, I don’t see the harm in trying it for a couple weeks. Say, three weeks. And if that sucks, whatever. I won’t bring it up again. What do you think?”

I thought it sounded like a nuisance, but she was being reasonable and it was hard to argue with reasonable, particularly when you were tired and miserable and wanted her to go away.

“Yeah, sure, okay,” I said.

“Alright! Cool. I’ll call Mrs. Wong and let her know. Maybe she’ll stop panicking. She was really worked up.”

So was I when I was in her office, I thought, but I didn’t say it because saying it would encourage more dialogue and I was dialogued out. Mom leaned over me and pressed a kiss to my forehead, her pale hair sliding past my face. I forced a smile for her and she turned for the door. Just before she left, she paused and pulled her silk short-sleeve shirt aside to show me a circular patch on her upper arm. It took me a minute to recognize it as a nicotine patch.

“I’m listening,” she repeated. “Seriously.”

Before I could answer, she stepped outside and closed the door.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

By the time I got to texting Devi, I was tired of talking about my day. I’d shown my butt to Mrs. Wong, Mormor and Mom, in that order. A fourth set of ears wasn’t going to make me feel better. It was beating a dead horse with a broom immediately after you’d beaten it with a stick.

I kept the conversation brief.

Devi’s ever-loyal response was, “I hope they get eaten by marmots.”

I kept her around for a reason.