I didn't mean to be a bad kid. I swear, I didn't.

I just wanted a little control in my life. Little acts of defiance were the only way I achieved that.

Maggie understood, to a degree. We got into our arguments, but as long as I worked hard and I was honest she didn't try to keep me from doing the things that made me happy. She let me go jogging in the middle of the night, so long as she knew the route I was taking and I had my phone. She took me out of high school and let me enroll in independent study where I could move at my own pace and catch up on the stuff I'd failed the few years prior.

All parents should be more like her. Less like Adam's mom. All kids should be more willing to fight for the privilege to have some sort of freedom instead of being on a ball and chain all the time.

I don't write Adam back because I don't know what to say and I have no idea if I'm being irrational. I am when I'm upset, Corey used to say. So it's better to keep my mouth shut until I'm done being mad and can pretend nothing happened.

Which might work except Adam calls the next day, which isn't nearly enough time for me to get over it. Maybe I should've responded to the email and said something, anything, to appease him so he'd leave me alone.

Or maybe I didn't want him to leave me alone. Maybe I wanted to see if he'd call. I don't know. But some part of me is thrilled when his number shows up on my phone. Adam doesn't want to upset me. Adam cares enough about my feelings that he wants to make sure we're okay. My heart is pounding.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

I wipe my palms against my jeans, phone cradled between shoulder and cheek. "Hi. Um, how are you?"

"I'm all right." Pause. "I wasn't sure if you got my email and...yeah, you know. Sorry. About the other day. I don't know what got into her."

"No, it's fine." It wasn't fine five minutes ago, but the second I heard Adam's voice it became fine. Something to think about.

"If it were fine, you would've written me back," Adam says, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice.

Caught.

"It is fine now. I mean...it's not like anyone's parents have ever liked me, I just..."

"Just?"

My turn to pause, letting the silence hang on the line between us. "I don't get it, is all. You could have told her off."

"She's my mom, Vince. I can't just 'tell her off.'"

"Sure you can."

Adam doesn't respond. I picture him perched on the edge of his bed like I am, slouching where my back is ramrod straight, picking non-existent lint off his hoodie. Silent because silence and Adam are the best of friends. It drives me crazy. After an eternity he says, almost timidly, almost incoherent because he's mumbling, "What about next weekend? If you want to...hang out or whatever."