Whitney nodded in agreement as the girl made her way into the mansion. They watched for a few more minutes in silence. When the commercials returned, Amelia picked up the remote to fast-forward.

“Did you finish all your homework?” Whitney asked as the people on screen moved at lightning speed.

Amelia didn’t answer. Her head was down, her thumbs moving over the screen of her phone, the remote already abandoned, lying on top of her thigh.

Whitney scooted closer, tried to peek over her shoulder.

Amelia noticed, turned her phone away. Looking up, she noticed the show had returned and hit Play, tucking her phone facedown under her leg.

“Who was that?” Whitney asked.

“No one,” Amelia said with a hint of impatience while staring at the TV.

Whitney decided to try a different angle. “Is it the same person you were talking to on the phone last night?” Whitney had heard hushed voices from their adjoining wall as she was trying to fall asleep. Getting out of bed, she hurried to Amelia’s room and peeked in. Amelia gave Whitney a sharp shake of the head and shooed her with her one free hand. The other held the cell phone to her ear. It felt like a slap in the face.

When Whitney was younger, most of her nights were spent on the phone in long conversations with her best friend. But now she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually seen Amelia talking on the phone, not texting. She had no idea who Amelia had been talking to. Ever since it happened, Whitney had been waiting for the right moment to bring it up.

She hated that this was what their relationship had become. Searching for right moments. Walking on eggshells. Skirting around issues. Hoping not to aggravate the teenage monster.

It was getting old.

Hand shooting out to grab the remote, Whitney paused the TV.

“It wasn’t no one,” she said. “Who were you talking to?”

Annoyed, Amelia crossed her arms over her chest. “A friend, okay? God.” After drawing out the word god and ending it with a hard d, she groaned. “Can we please just watch the show now?”

“Not until you tell me.”

Amelia’s eyes darkened, her lips melting into a hard line. “Why does it even matter to you? It’s my phone. I can talk to whoever I want.”

This wasn’t okay. It wasn’t how Amelia talked to her. She’d always told Whitney everything. Over the years other moms would comment about how jealous they were of the close relationship between them.

What had happened?

Whatever it was, Whitney wouldn’t allow it to continue.

She reached for Amelia’s phone, her fingertips latching on to the edge that peeked out from under Amelia’s leg.

“It’s not your phone. It’s mine. I pay for it,” she said, her tone firm.