“Carla Marie Sawyer. I haven’t heard you whine like this since you were five years old.”

I muttered that I wasn’t whining. But you can’t argue against that particular mom-voice, because then you are whining.

She went on. “You are a beautiful, capable, talented, smart—”

“Hah.”

“You have a learning difference. That’s the only reason school’s been difficult for you.”

“Yeah, what am I talented at, exactly?”

I thought that would stump her, but she came back with, “You are a fast learner, and you have an adventurous soul.”

I didn’t imagine that was anything you could cheer yourself up with on a bad day, but it shut me up for a minute. Then I said, “Aaron’s talking about us moving somewhere. He wants to live somewhere different.”

“Oh, really?” That surprised her. “Where does he want to go?”

“British Columbia. Vancouver. Maybe. Or somewhere else.”

It had only been a few hours since he’d brought it up. It was possible that my latest escapade might change his mind about bringing me along. But it was still out there. It was part of what was making me feel so wretched, although I hadn’t realized it until just now.

“Well,” my mom said after a moment, “I’d be sad if you went so far away. But I expect you’d have new opportunities in a new place. You might find some kind of work that hadn’t occurred to you, something worthwhile that would be just the right match for your skills.”

“What kind of work?” And what sort of skills were we talking about, I wondered, but I didn’t want to ask.

“My goodness, Carla, how would I know? You haven’t even started looking yet.”

I couldn’t help thinking she made it sound like what I needed was a sheltered workshop of some sort. But now I was only feeling sorry for myself. “Can I stay here tonight?”

She made up my old bed for me and put out towels in the bathroom and found an oversized T-shirt I used to sleep in. She kissed me and told me things would look better after a good night’s sleep.

If only. I had too much confused unhappiness cresting inside me to fall asleep easily. I didn’t know why I was so scared of moving somewhere with Aaron, why I wasn’t like the girls in old music videos who jump on the back of the guy’s motorcycle and head out to wherever. Not that Aaron was a stranger, or even had a motorcycle. Not taking into account that he might be seriously p.o.’d at me by now, and might rescind his offer, even kick me out of his house in disgust.

This was how my thoughts were spiraling down.

I kept checking my phone, nothing.