“Yeah, I’m good,” I lied. Chef doesn’t like us eating on shift and I missed family meal so … yep, still hungry. I’m hoping in fifteen minutes or so my mom will be locked away in her own room and I can sneak back down into the kitchen for a midnight snack.

God, tonight is really just full of kid clichés, huh? Guess I’m not as much of a grown-up as I’d like to think.

“I know your dad and brother would be glad to hear it too,” she said after a moment where the two of us just stood on opposite sides of the kitchen, in an awkward standoff.

“What?”

“That you’re doing well,” she continued. “They worry. We all do. Especially since you’re hardly around these days to tell us you’re okay.”

“I’m not the one you should be worried about,” I mumbled. It struck me as pretty rich that my mom was just now taking issue with me not being around all the time, now that I’m Atypical, now that my dad is sick. Instead of pushing that feeling down, putting it into kneading some dough later, I just let it bubble up.

“And who exactly do you think we should be worried about?” she asked.

“I’m not the one who’s sick,” I pointed out, instantly regretting addressing the nine-hundred-pound gorilla that had been sitting in the corner of every family conversation for the past six weeks.

“Worrying is not an exclusive thing, Rose,” she said as I reached to get a water glass, keeping my hands busy so I didn’t have to talk directly to her face. “I’ve been a mother for twenty years and a psychic for far longer than that—worrying is my expertise.”

“Bully for you,” I muttered.

Snap.

I let the cabinet door swing closed, moving to the fridge to fill the glass I’d pulled down.

Ice. Ice spreading across the room, cracking beneath my feet.

“Must not be hereditary,” she went on, “seeing as you don’t seem to be concerned about anything at all. I’m glad nothing fazes you, honey, but a little care for your family, especially given the past few months, would not go amiss.”

I wanted to say, “If you’re the professional worrier, why should I bother?” but I knew the ice would crack completely if I pushed back.

“Things faze me,” I said instead, taking a sip of water.

“I just want to know what’s going on in that head of yours,” she said, her voice calm and completely unnerving.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve barely been at home since you got back from the AM, you’re sleeping all the time—”