My mouth drops open, awkwardness replaced by indignation. “I was conceived at a youth group conference?”

She shrugs, and finally, it hits me how young my mom is. We’re barely eighteen years apart. There’s a lot more to unpack in this revelation, but first—

I whistle low. “My dad played in a Christian band.”

“Just a local one. More of a church worship band, really.”

“But he died in a drunk-driving accident, and he was the driver?”

“He was. I have the article somewhere in my things.”

I wave her off, impatient. “My unmarried, teenage parents had sex at a youth group conference, and before you could tell my dad you were pregnant, he killed himself drunk driving?”

She frowns. “That about sums it up.”

The choking feeling is returning, so I sit back down on my bed, dropping my head into my hands.

“Do you hate me now?” Her voice is barely a whisper.

I can’t bring myself to say the words or even look at her. My head is too heavy for my body. Instead, I shake it, hot tears dripping into my lap until I hear the door close behind her.

A few hours later, I walk out the front door. My mom stands haloed in the porch light, moths circling her gleaming blue-black hair as I struggle down the steps, feeling crushed under the weight of recent revelations and my oversize suitcase. Vada pops the trunk, and I drop in my luggage, raising a hand in farewell before ducking into the car.

“I thought this was supposed to be covert,” Vada mutters, reversing out of the drive.

“It was when I was running off to California. But now…” I trail off.

“No wings?” she asks, one red eyebrow perked. Vada and I’ve been best friends for almost fifteen years, and she’s probably never seen me without my fairy wings. But I couldn’t do it today.

“No wings,” I say, facing my reflection in the darkened window. “I left them behind.”

“Well,” she says, tapping on the radio. “At least this makes things easier. I won’t have to avoid your mom around town.”

This makes me roll my eyes. “Oh, please, college girl. In a few days, you’ll be off to Cali with Luke, and Ann Arbor will be nothing but a green blur in your rearview mirror.”

Vada beams in a deliriously happy way that’s evident even in the dark. She glows. Has since the night her boyfriend, Luke Greenly, announced his undying devotion to her by way of a very public, very lucrative live performance of the viral hit song he just so happened to write about her, which in turn saved the dive bar they both work at from extinction.

No biggie. It’s not like it’s messed with my expectations of romance at all.

Catching my smirk, she clears her throat. “So, Marquette.”