Right. The teachers could never know or get a handle on the wide range of crap happening here every day, happening online, outside these walls, inside our homes, everywhere, everywhere. And everyone else seems to feel the same way, because they are all looking anywhere but at Pete. They are looking at me. No one will tell. They can’t prove anything, they don’t want to snitch, they’re not 100 percent sure; they just want to mind their own business, they don’t want to be next. All the reasons to say nothing. To look away.

“Okay? Okay. Moving on.”

*   *   *

I deflate when I leave school. It used to be the opposite, but now I get my energy from the action, the attention. It’s like a literal charge into my body, whereas being home gives me nothing. I want to keep the feeling going, the rush of the eyes on me, the feeling of people by my side. Because when it’s gone, I am completely alone.

I push open the door and smell something cooking.

Mom calls from the kitchen, “Hi, honey!”

I slump in, throwing my bag on a chair. “What are you doing?”

“Making spaghetti and meatballs for us! I thought you and me could hang out together tonight.”

I look around. “Where’s Reg?”

“Oh, he’s out with his buddies tonight, so it’s just us girls!”

I walk over to the stove, where she’s standing, her hair sweaty against her forehead, and stick my finger in the sauce, then taste it.

Mom puts her hand around my waist and smiles at me. “What do you want to watch?”

I smile in spite of myself because I can’t help it. She is flighty and sweet and innocent, and she just wants to be loved, and I miss her.

*   *   *

Totally stuffed but still sharing popcorn, we stretch out on the couch to watch Ferris Bueller’s Day Off for the 100th time. It’s still light out, so we’ve pulled the curtains shut and are hunkered in together. It is so good. Just like old times. But then, just as Ferris is serenading the city of New York, Reg walks in.

“You started without me?” He laughs, and Mom jumps up and hugs him.

“I thought you were going out with the guys?” she gushes.

“Couldn’t stay away, could I?” he says, her hero, and the next thing I know he’s telling me to scooch to make room on the couch for him.

I get up. “Never mind. You two go ahead.”

Mom tsks and protests. “Stevie, come on, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do this, Mom? Seriously? I don’t know why I ever believed you. You never have time for me anymore. Only your boyfriend.”

“What? No, honey! I thought he was— Hon, we can all watch a movie together, for God sakes.”