I ran a balled fist under my eyes to get rid of the stubborn tears that forced their way out. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll stop the locker.”

“Uh, yes, that is a given. And you’ll give a refund to everyone you gave advice to.”

I blanched. “I can’t! I’ve spent most of it.”

“You’re just going to have to save up.”

“Well, I’ll be saving ’til I’m thirty, then, because I’ve been getting about ten letters a week.”

“Ten letters a—a week? You’ve been giving sex advice to ten students every week?”

“Not sex,” I said. “Relationships. Like Oriella.”

Mom barked a laugh. “Darcy, you are sixteen years old, you don’t know enough about relationships to charge people for advice!”

I was seventeen next week. Mom always did that. Rounded my age up when she thought I wasn’t doing enough, and rounded it down when she thought I was doing too much.

“Well apparently I do, because they kept coming back,” I said defensively. “I research everything. I’m not just making it up.”

“What kind of advice have you been giving the students at our school, exactly?”

I shrugged and looked out the passenger window, even though we weren’t moving. “All sorts. How to set boundaries, what to do if your friends don’t like your new boyfriend, how to tell your girlfriend you’re unhappy without hurting her feelings. That kind of stuff.”

Mom shook her head. “Unbelievable. You’re not a therapist. You can’t counsel people!”

“I wasn’t counseling. What about advice columns?”

“They’re public opinion posts, with disclaimers. That’s freedom of the press. There are rules about who can counsel to keep everyone safe, Darcy.”

I folded my arms and frowned. “I don’t see how I was putting students in danger. Last time I checked, telling someone how to use friendly body language or how to make your partner feel respected isn’t high-risk stuff.”

“Yes, but you’re still giving advice that you are unqualified to give, and accepting payment for that advice with no liability or indemnity terms. Which is, incidentally, why we tend to frown upon teenagers starting their own business while hiding it from all the adults in their lives, because you don’t have a clue what you’re doing from a legal standpoint!”

“Well, it’s fine, because nothing went wrong, and now it’s over.”

“Sounds like a lot went wrong this morning!”

“That was not my fault.”

“News flash, Darc, when you offer confidentiality in exchange for payment, it becomes your responsibility to ensure that confidentiality. If you didn’t do everything within your power to keep that information safe, that’s absolutely grounds for complaint.”