“They don’t know that there are any . . . sexual . . . images of me on the internet.”

“Not even Deirdre knows?”

“Deirdre isn’t that young,” Lulu says. “Besides, you know her: She’s too cool of a stepmom to go looking for dirt on me.”

Naomi makes a face. “Soooooo cool,” she says. “What an awesome parenting trend: neglect.”

“I’m hardly neglected.”

“Are you?”

“I’m not making porn, Naomi. It was a mistake.”

Naomi nods.

“Oh my god, did you think it was like . . . revenge porn? You think Owen would do that?”

“I’ve only met Owen once,” Naomi says. “And I never pretend to have any sense of what the hell a man might do if he got his feelings hurt.”

“A man.” Now it’s Lulu’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Seriously, Lu. Can you just—can you tell me, I don’t know. Are you okay?”

Lulu hates that question. It’s the one she’s been trying to avoid by staying home and standing in corners at parties, by plastering a smile on her face and keeping her grades up.

Is she okay? She doesn’t know.

She’d like to be okay, because then no one would have to worry about her. But if she’s okay about that whole—thing—it seems like no one thinks she should be okay, so maybe that’s a mistake. She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to feel about having exposed herself, or having hurt Owen, or having that video of her out there forever.

There are no rules for this situation, because this is a situation you don’t find yourself in if you actually remember to play by the fucking rules.

“It was a mistake,” Lulu says. “But I posted it myself, okay?” It was her own fault. Lulu knows that much. “And I promise, honestly, I’m totally fine. You can check my grades if you want to. You just watched me house this food, so you know I’m eating. You saw me sleeping.” She smiles. “Right?”

Naomi smiles thinly. “Right,” she says. “After staying out all night getting drunk.”

“It was the end of the semester. There was a party. I’m going to parties. I’m still a regular girl.” Naomi seems unconvinced. “We should get the check.”

“I want to be here for you,” Naomi says. “I want to be a part of your life, Lulu.”

So much for getting out of here quickly. “You are,” she says. “See? Brunch.”

“I want you to be able to call me, if you want to.”

“I will, I swear, but this really wasn’t—”

“I remember what it was like, you know. The first time I drove down the block, and I made a turn, and I couldn’t see the house anymore. And I realized: I could do whatever I wanted.”

“You’re complaining about that?”