I sit quietly for a while, thinking about the text, then wet my hands and run them over my face. I lift my feet out and put them on the edge of the tub, relishing the cold air. Close my eyes. I am just starting to relax, so naturally, there is a sudden pounding on the door.

“Stevie.” It’s Mom.

“Hmmm?” Eyes still closed.

“Stevie, I need to get in there.”

“Well, it seems that the door is locked.”

She turns the knob several times to prove my point.

“Stevie, come on, please. Open the door.”

Jesus. This house, I tell you. I don’t even know why we have a bathtub.

I lean my head back and put my ears under the water. I can’t hear her or the French music, but I can feel the thudding of her knocking, and my ears are burning. I come up for air.

“Okay, okay, keep your hair on.”

I splash out, unlocking the door, and then almost break my neck getting back into the tub and pulling the curtain across before she comes rattling in like a tornado made of cigarette smoke and instant coffee grounds. Part of the shower curtain falls down, and the shower rings clatter all over the floor. She turns off the radio with a click and starts rooting around her enormous makeup bag, pulling out mascara and lipstick.

“You know, it’s really hard to relax around here,” I grumble.

“Oh, I feel so sorry for you. It must be really stressful being a fifteen-year-old with no responsibilities.”

I give her a stink-eye because she has obviously forgotten what it’s like to be fifteen, but it hits the remaining curtain, so she doesn’t see it.

“I have a client coming in this evening. I’ll be downstairs. You can have someone over if you want.”

“No thanks,” I say.

“What about Lottie? I haven’t seen her in a while. You two okay?” she asks.

She has no idea what is going on or that I no longer have a best friend. “I guess.”

“Teenage friendships. God, I remember those.” She pauses, and I hear her snap the cap on her lipstick. “You know, I ran into her dad today.”

“Which one?”

“What?” She clues in. “Oh God, Stevie, her dad, Jacob. God. Anyway, he told me that Rhonda is moving out, like soon.”

I sit up. “What? Already? Pete’s moving?”

“Right. Pete, my apologies. Didn’t Lottie tell you? Yeah, apparently, things are bonkers over there. Her dad said that ‘Pete’ is trying to find out who ‘he’ is.” I could hear her making air quotes around words out there. “There might be a woman on the scene, too, just to make matters even more complicated.”

“A woman for Pete?”