“What if I am?” she snaps. She shoves her hair behind her ear, pops a Virginia Slim in her mouth and flicks a lighter in the same single smooth move, blows out a cloud. Her voice is hoarse. “How do you think I felt, when they told me what you had been doing? I’ve been bragging to my friends about Paris—”

“Milan,” I say, something breaking in me. Milan.

“—and instead you’re out there wasting all that time and all that money? What about Paris, Adeleina—”

But she’s not listening, because she never listens, and something’s broken free, and I’m leaning forward into my screen, gritting my teeth.

“Listen, Mom. Mom!” I say, to catch her attention, make her look at me. She sniffs. “Mom. I have worked so hard, every day. You know that. You know I worked hard to get a scholarship to this school. I worked my ass off to get into Angles. In Milan. It’s a dance troupe in Milan. I have been grateful every single day, for how lucky I’ve been. But I screwed up; I know I did. I thought I could find a way to spend the summer in Milan. And I lost it. It felt like my only chance to become a dancer, Mom. A professional. I needed to meet Mohadesa Rabei. I told you about her. The fat dancer who—”

I stop when my mother visibly winces, trying to rein in my anger.

“Well, this is the first I’m hearing about some woman,” she says.

“It’s not, Mom! It’s not. You don’t listen. I’m scared about my future, and I’m scared for my friends, and I don’t know what’s going to happen, Mom…” I trail off, my anger dwindling into sadness. I silently beg her to understand. To say anything that shows she understands this fear in me, and for my future, and for my friends.

She’s just been waiting for me to stop talking. She jabs her barely smoked cigarette into the ashtray. “Were you laughing at me when I told you to make sure you stayed focused? Because that’s what it sounds like.”

“I was focused, Mom, I have never lost focus—”

“Well, you’re coming back this summer, and you’re going to get a real job. How’s that?” Before I can respond, she shakes her head. “Go to sleep, Adeleina. I’m exhausted.”

And she’s gone. She’s not surprised I made a mess of things. It always feels awful to know I’ve disappointed her, that rock in my stomach. It feels worse to be so furious at her. For not listening. For not understanding. Furious with myself for thinking she might. Or that she could.

Nevaeh finds me with my forehead on the desk. Katherine brings the candy.

“There’s nothing we can do right this second,” she says, and hands me the bag.