I close my eyes. Was it that obvious?

“How’s my mom? Have you seen her?”

“Lou, I’m not supposed to talk to you about this.”

“Please, Joe. They won’t even tell me where she is.”

He sighs. I wait. Someone yells out an order for a cappuccino in the background. Heavy on the foam.

“She’s doing okay. She’s bunking down with Amelie.”

“Who?”

“Amelie, the manager from Christy’s.”

The one who chased us off when I had that last meltdown? The one Mom yelled at as we were walking away from the crowd, me with gravel still in my knees? Now they’re buddies?

“But—”

“Lou, she’s trying real hard to get on her feet. The truck’s in the shop, but it’ll be a while.”

If she’s got a place to stay and is “getting on her feet,” why hasn’t she called? I can’t talk anymore. The ache in my stomach is back.

“Okay, thanks, Joe.”

I start to hang up but hear him say right before I can press end, “Hang in there, Lou. And, uh, check in every now and then, okay?”

“Okay.”

I put the phone in my pocket and toss the tissue in the trash. By the time Andrea comes back, I’m in my chair with the form facedown in my lap. She takes it without looking at it and walks me to second period with an easy smile. I pretend to be normal. I stick to the plan. But inside I feel something crumbling. The picture of who I thought Mom was is falling apart.

Well is waiting outside math class. I stop short. It’s enough to distract me from what Joe said. Is Well waiting for me? He was so nice the other day, but I figured that was just him and I was nothing special. He’d probably make friends with a tree. But now he’s holding out his arm like he’s asking me to dance. Today his nails are black.

“Um…,” I manage when he doesn’t move.

“I’m trying to be gallant,” he whispers. I smile a tiny bit even though it hurts a little. I’m still not taking his arm, though. My body wouldn’t let me even if I tried. Luckily, he turns the whole thing into a bow so low that his tie drags on the floor.

“After you, miss,” he says as I pass by.