“Why do you care?” I snap. The words come out like a reflex. Lydia just asked a question, but all I can think about is what Sarah asked when I told her: How did you get it? Like she was looking for some way to blame me. To find out if I’d been doing drugs or sleeping around.

“Oh, I just…” Lydia’s voice trails off. “Never mind.”

“Do your parents know?” Claudia asks.

“Yeah, of course.” My brows furrow. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Well,” Lydia says, mouth scrunching, “at the Pleasure Chest, you sort of made it sound like they’re a little strict about sex. So if you told them about something like this—”

“Oh,” I say. “No. No, no, no. It’s not like that.”

I shake my head, forcing myself to swallow. I guess I should’ve made this a little clearer.

Lydia blinks, glancing at Claudia. They seem to have a silent conversation. I hate it. I wish we could go back to before, when all three of us were talking together.

“My biological mom had it, so I was born with it,” I say. “And I wanted to tell you guys sooner, but it’s just that I told one of my friends at my old school and it didn’t really work out.”

“What do you mean?” Lydia asks. “Did she get mad?”

“She was just weird.” I shrug, thinking back to when I first told Sarah my secret. How she recoiled like I’d just spit on her. How she called me selfish for keeping it to myself. How I knew that everything would change, right there, even before she left my room. “She told a bunch of people so, you know. That gave me some trust issues.”

“What a bitch,” Claudia says, leaning back in her chair. “What a fucking bitch.”

“Yeah,” I say, picking at the table. “Anyway, that’s why my parents are so weird about sex. They don’t want me to expose anyone.”

“Oh,” Claudia says. “That’s…good, right?”

“I guess,” I say. “But they’re just—intense about it. Like, if I weren’t positive, they’d probably be the type to leave condoms in the bathroom.”

“I mean,” she says. “You don’t…”

She goes silent as I stare at her. She knows my parents. I know my parents. There’s no point in trying to argue with me.

“I’m sorry about all the questions,” Lydia says, rubbing her forehead. “I just—I don’t really know anything about this.”

“Yeah,” Claudia says. “And I’m glad no one gave it to you. I mean, your mom did, but I was worried, like, you got assaulted or something.”

“No.” I shake my head. “Nothing like that.”