“I’ve been invited to a special event. A very exclusive, very safe event,” Stella said. Time to pop the Golden question. She propped her tablet up on the counter between them so they could watch the personalized invitation video Jewel Van Hanen had sent.

A steady, nervous ticking counted down in Stella’s brain, winding up her intestines into something wholly recognizable as fear. Exactly thirty seconds into the video, Diane’s contrary gaze flicked up to Stella. And when it ended, her parents exchanged a look: Diane shook her head, and Lloyd sucked his teeth.

“Letting me go to Golden Weekend should be well within legal limits,” Stella said. “Jewel has an extensive security detail in place, and the flight is four hours each way, which gives me plenty of time to do my homework and extra studies while trapped in a metal tube at an ungodly altitude.”

Diane’s gaze evolved into something dedicated to being unreasonable.

Stella continued, “The attached email said you can schedule a meeting to talk to Jewel or her lawyers if you need to.”

“Lawyers?” Of course, that caught Lloyd’s attention.

“I have to sign a nondisclosure agreement to prevent me selling the raunchy details of my weekend to some scummy news site—I’m kidding! About the raunchy part, not the NDA. I do have to sign that.”

“No,” Lloyd said. “Absolutely not.”

“What? Why?” Stella had to watch herself—she couldn’t appear too disappointed. Lloyd hated whining and wouldn’t tolerate petulance. A temper tantrum would win her less than nothing. She needed to spin the conversation in a different way. “You’re always saying I need to get out more instead of lazing about in the house,” she said, shifting again. “This is out!”

“We meant taking the dog for a walk,” Lloyd said. “Not crossing state lines.”

“Going outside reminds me of all the things I’m not allowed to have,” Stella said, sharpening her honesty into a shank. “Oh wait. Sorry. I forgot I’m not supposed to bring that up. But you know me, I’m always up for a spirited debate about my rights to have a social life.”

“You know the rules.” Lloyd sighed.

Her parents had rules for everything.

Studies came first—homeschool studies, to be specific. Her internet usage, email, and bank account were all monitored. No sports, no clubs, no TV, and no friends to distract her from the goals they’d set. The only reason she’d been allowed to use Golden Rule (for thirty minutes, every other day) was because her therapist, Joan, had made the recommendation and put in the work to convince her parents.