I hurried into the living room and drew up short when I saw the name on my caller ID.

Mom.

Ooooh fuck.

The phone kept ringing while I debated on picking it up and tossing it out the window. I had to answer, though. Mom and Dad never called. So it had to be important. Answering the phone, I winced. “Hello.”

“Avery.”

Ah, there was the voice—the cultured, clipped, highly impersonal, and cold voice of Mrs. Morgansten. I bit back a string of curses that would burn her perfect ears. “Hi, Mom.”

There was a huge gap of silence. My brows rose as I wondered if she misdialed me or something. Finally she spoke. “How is West Virginia?”

She said ‘West Virginia’ like it was some kind of venereal disease. I rolled my eyes. Sometimes my parents forgot where they came from. “It’s really good. You’re up early.”

“It’s Sunday. Theo has insisted on doing an early brunch with your Father at the Club. Otherwise I would not be up at this time.”

Theo? I plopped down on the couch, my mouth hanging open. For the love of little babies everywhere, Theo was Blaine’s father. My parents, they were such… fuckers.

“Avery, are you there?” Impatience filled her tone.

“Yes. I’m here.” I grabbed a pillow and shoved it in my lap. “You’re going to have brunch with Mr. Fitzgerald?”

“Yes.”

And that was all she said to that. Yes. Like it was no big deal. The Fitzgerald’s paid the Morgansten’s off and I was labeled a lying whore, but it was all good in the hood, because they all could still have brunch at the club.

“How is school?” she asked, but she sounded bored. She was probably surfing the Internet for her next cosmetic procedure. “Avery?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “School is perfect. West Virginia is perfect. Everything is perfect.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young lady. After everything you put us through—”

“Everything I put you through?” I was living in an alternate universe.

“And still putting us through,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken a word. “You’re clear across the country, going to some little university in West Virginia instead of—”

“There’s nothing wrong with this school, Mom, or West Virginia. You were born in Ohio. Not that different—”

“That is something I try not to remember.” Her huff was pretty epic. “Which brings me to the point of this call.”

Thank God, baby Jesus, and the Holy Ghost.

“You need to come home.”

“What?” I clenched the pillow to my chest.

She sighed. “You need to stop playing around and come home, Avery. You’ve made your point quite clear by up and doing something as childish as this.”

“Childish? Mom, I hated being there—”

“And who do you have to blame for that, Avery?” Some of the coolness slipped from her voice.

My mouth dropped open. This wasn’t the first time she’d said something like that. Not by a long shot, but it was like a punch in the chest. I stared at the window, shaking my head slowly.