“Mom does,” I muttered. “You know she keeps a running spreadsheet of my grades so she always knows my current GPA? I wish she’d chill out.”

Sympathy glowed in her eyes. “Your mother’s worried about you. You’re at a difficult age, and she doesn’t want you to make any mistakes. I’m sure she’s doing the best she can.”

I thought of my decision to join my new friends this summer and how Mom would lose it. Somehow, I had to convince her I just wanted to have an experience on my own. God knows, she’d probably be MIA the entire time anyway, leaving me bored and stranded for two months. “If she was worried, she’d be home more. Or at my track meets if she’s so hot on me getting a scholarship. All she cares about is her job.”

I hated the worry etched in my grandmother’s frown, but I was tired of pretending. When I was with my mom, there was nothing left to say other than all the surface subjects a stranger would ask about. The worst part? I’d spent too much time mad at her, or sad, trying desperately to gain her attention. Now I kept telling myself I didn’t care and it was her loss. Soon I’d be in college and living my own life. I needed to concentrate on the future.

“She’s so much like your grandfather,” Nonni finally said. “I remember he used to believe working nonstop meant he was taking care of the family. That’s how he knew how to show love. It took a while for him to realize we wanted his attention and time more than nice things.”

I wish I’d known Pop Pop, but he died before I was born. I liked the way my grandmother spoke about him, with love still in her eyes and her voice soft. I dreamed of loving another person that deeply, for so long. I noticed Nonni rubbing her belly again, so I switched the subject. I hated upsetting her. “It’s okay, I’m just stressed and have a lot on my mind.”

Her face softened. She was beautiful, with her thick gray hair and almond-shaped brown eyes. It was cool she still loved wearing makeup and pink lipstick and a hint of perfume that always smelled like lilacs and not that yucky old-lady smell like mothballs. “I know, sweet girl. But I have a surprise I wanted to talk to you and Mom about on Sunday. Maybe it will help.”

“What kind of surprise?”

“I want to tell you together,” she said, folding her hands on the table. “I’m sure your mom’s big presentation will be over soon, and we’ll spend the afternoon together. Maybe even go see a movie.”

“Horror?”

She sighed, pretending to think about it. “No nudity. But some blood is okay.”