I leaned in and kissed him. Our kisses were different this time. They had been since last night. They were the kisses that lovers gave each other. Sexier and slower and more loaded.

“I will,” I said as I walked to my car and climbed in. I drove home that evening feeling this sense that everything was different. The sea looked bright and brilliant and no longer scary. The mountain looked like it probably looked to all Capetonians: beautiful and majestic. Like a lighthouse on a misty night, a safe, guiding beacon. Something to orient yourself with. Even my house, when I pulled up to it, didn’t look as hideous. Maybe kitschy winged lions weren’t as bad after all . . . or maybe I was just high on dopamine.

Things I Like about Myself by Lori Palmer

I’m a good sister.

I’m a real artist (despite what Blackwell says!).

I, Lori Palmer, am officially good with parents! I’m getting better with parents.

I have a voice. There is power in my art.

I am brave!

I am a great kisser!

I’m a good friend (even if I don’t really want to be just a friend).

My voice can start a movement!

My body is a work of art!

I have great boobs. I mean . . . AHMAZING!

I am hot!

I stand up for myself.

I am a bona fide sex goddess.

I walked through the front door and my dopamine high instantly disappeared when I saw him sitting in the lounge. He was helping Zac build his biggest battery in the world. My mom was sitting at the kitchen counter drinking coffee, her back turned to him, as if she was trying to block him out.

“Lori!” He rushed over and pulled me into a hug.

“Dad,” I said, feeling crushed against him.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said.

“For what?” I asked.

“You’ve been all over the news. You did those incredible paintings. You’ve been accepted to the best art school in the world.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t let you go away without saying good-bye, poppet.”

Poppet. I tried not to show emotion at this pet name. He’d always called me poppet, but this time it made me want to cry. Seeing us all in the same room together made me want to cry. Knowing that he had flown here to say good-bye to me made me want to cry.

I turned and walked away, dumping my overnight bag in the kitchen. My mom glanced down at it quickly, and when I caught her looking at it, she turned away. I could see she knew I hadn’t been at Thembi’s house, and when she flashed me a tiny, knowing smile, I couldn’t figure out whether this was the creepiest thing ever or whether I should be touched by her apparent openness.