I sigh and go to the kitchen. I might as well find something to eat. I can’t wait to see Nai. She was my first call when I got home last night. I ran down everything that happened. But she insisted we meet up before school so I could tell her everything in person.

When I asked her what was up on her end, she changed the subject and then said she had to go to bed. Nai has always chosen juicy updates over getting a good night’s sleep. I have no idea what gives, but today I will find out. I will not let her wiggle her way out of talking to me.

My mom comes down the stairs wearing a finely tailored charcoal-gray suit that could easily come out of Olivia Pope’s closet. She wears her braids in a high bun, with a sweeping bang. Her makeup is minimal and her only accessory is the small heart pendant Grandma gave her before she passed away. The look is simple but elegant.

“You look great, Mom.”

“Thank you. You too, Getti. You’re practically beaming.”

I smile but don’t say anything. I scour the cabinets. “I’m thinking Pop-Tarts, because why not, right?” I tell her as I unwrap the silver shiny foil. “You want one?”

“No, I’m good. How are things with you? Anything I need to know?”

I feel a sharp pang of guilt as I go to take a bite of the Pop-Tart. The truth is I would love to tell my mom about last night. After Nai, she’s the person I would usually come to with this stuff. My mom has never been stuffy and reserved, at least not when it comes to things like this. I was seven when we had the sex talk. And by the time I was eight, I could run my own sexual health TED Talk. She said information was power, and she refused to let me go through life powerless.

But things have been kind of funky between us lately. And even if we weren’t at odds, I’d have to explain why I was at a party instead of running the youth meeting. Also, there is that little matter of her not liking Devonte. In the end, it doesn’t matter how much I want to share my news with her. It’s not a good idea.

“Nope, there’s nothing you need to know,” I reply.

That settles it: if there’s a “daughter hell,” I’m headed there, first class.

“I’ve been feeling like you and I are a little off,” she says as she looks over at me.

“Yeah, kind of,” I admit carefully.

“That’s why I decided to come by the meeting yesterday and take you out to dinner. Thought we could get back on track.”