She didn’t answer. She was still too pissed and—all of a sudden—too scared. Scared of what, she didn’t know. Everything. Nothing. Herself.

“Anything I can do?” His voice sounded different. Quieter, gentler, almost kind.

“Chop onions,” she said, although she knew that wasn’t exactly what he meant. Still, he came over, picked up the onions, and grabbed a huge scary-looking knife from a drawer. “You have to peel it first.”

He shot her a dirty look, just like he would have Eve, and got to work.

“Um—I should probably call my mom,” Claire said. “Can I use the phone?”

“You pay for long distance.”

“Sure.”

He shrugged, reached over, and grabbed the cordless phone, then pitched it underhanded to her. She nearly dropped it, but was kind of proud she didn’t. She got out a big iron skillet from under the cabinet and put it on the counter, heated up the burner, and found some oil. As it was warming, she read over the thin little recipe book she’d bought at the store one more time, then dialed the phone.

Her mom answered on the second ring. “Yes?” It was never hello with her mother.

“Mom, it’s Claire.”

“Claire! Baby, where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for days!”

“Classes,” she said. “Sorry. I’m not home that much.”

“Are you sleeping enough? If you don’t get enough rest, you’ll get sick—you know how you are—”

“Mom, I’m fine.” Claire frowned down at the recipe on the counter in front of her. What did sauté mean, exactly? Was it like frying? Diced, she understood. That was just cutting things into cubes, and Shane was doing that already. “Really. It’s all okay now.”

“Claire, I know it’s hard. We really didn’t want you to go even just the few hundred miles to TPU, honey. If you want to come back home, your dad and I would be so glad to have you back!”

“Honestly, Mom, I don’t—I’m fine. It’s okay. Classes are really good”—that was stretching the truth—“and I’ve made friends here. They’re looking out for me.”

“You’re sure.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Because I worry. I know you’re very mature for your age but—”

Shane opened his mouth to say something. Claire made frantic NO NO NO motions at him, pointing at the phone. Mom! she mouthed. Shane held up both hands in surrender and kept chopping. Mom was still talking. Claire had missed some of it, but she didn’t think it really mattered exactly. “—boys, right?”

Wow. Mom radar worked even at this distance. “What, Mom?”

“Your dorm doesn’t allow boys to come up to the rooms, does it? There’s someone on duty at the desk to make sure?”