With the same easygoing attitude, Meadow says, “Yeah, I want to do a scrying ritual at midnight; a friend has asked me to take a peek into her future. And sex is great to raise earthly energy and create magical power.”

Sorry, that’ll be a hard pass. Also, Garrett, you’re so dead.

Fifteen

Vivian

“Who are you texting?” I ask my daughter. “Aren’t all your friends on WhatsApp or Snapchat these days? I thought texts were dead.”

“I’m not chatting with my friends,” Tegan replies, her thumbs moving over the buttons of the ancient phone I gave her for emergencies. Composing a text is taking her thrice the time it’d take on a modern smartphone.

“Who are you texting, then?” I repeat, annoyed she’s purposely giving me half-answers.

Tegan puts her thumbs on hold for a second and stares up at me. “My therapist.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “That man is not your therapist, and why are you texting him?”

“To ask him if he can get me out of this crazy idea you’ve gotten into your head. I don’t need an AA meeting, Mom.”

Her phone pings. Tegan reads the text, and frowns.

“So?”

“Luke says AA isn’t necessary.”

“Really?” Shrek can be a pain to deal with, but he doesn’t strike me as someone who’d so blatantly undermine a parent’s authority, especially not when he’s wearing his therapist hat. She must be paraphrasing. “Is that all?”

Tegan sighs. “No, he also says it won’t do me any harm.”

“Now that we have your therapist’s blessing, can we go?” We’re standing in the tiny entrance hall of our house, already dressed and ready to leave. Only, Tegan has dug her metaphorical heels into the carpet and is refusing to get out.

“Mom, please. I promise I won’t drink again until I’m twenty-one, but can we please not go?” And I swear, I’ve had to deal with my fair share of hard-bitten opposing counsels, but I’m quickly discovering they’re all amateurs compared to a teenager who thinks she’s being treated unfairly. “I already missed the game today, and all my friends are out having fun. And it’s okay that I’m grounded but going to an AA meeting is just lame. I’m not an alcoholic. What if someone recognizes us?”

“The people there don’t care who you are, Tegan. That’s why it’s called Alcoholics Anonymous.”

“But what if we bump into someone we know? What will they think of us?”

“Same you’d think about them: that they have a problem and are trying to cope with it.”

“I don’t have a drinking problem! It was just one mistake, Mom. This is stupid.”

“You think this is how I wanted to spend my Saturday night?”

“Why? You had something better to do? You never go out.”