“I’m sorry,” I say. I don’t know why, but I start to cry. Tears slip down the sides of my face, and my chest heaves out the sadness and worry locked inside.

“Don’t cry, honey. I’m not mad. I just don’t want to see you in pain.”

I cry harder and can’t seem to stop.

“Rachel, what is it?”

“Nothing,” I say, choking up more sorrow. I don’t know how I could ever talk to my mom about how I feel. I don’t even understand it myself, really. I’m so scared. Scared of losing Micah. Scared of my parents’ money problems. Scared of being . . . different.

“I’d hug you, honey, but I’m afraid it would hurt too much.”

I take deep breaths and finally settle down. “It’s OK,” I say, wiping my eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Hormones,” my mom says. “Maybe it’s just hormones.”

I guess in some way she’s right, but it feels so much bigger than that.

“Did Dad go to work without you?” I ask to change the subject, even if it’s no better. “He seemed pretty mad.”

“He’ll be all right. I just pushed him too much, is all. Your dad . . . he doesn’t always take bills and things seriously and that kind of thing really stresses me out. I don’t like being late on payments. Your dad’s a bit more laid back about it.”

“Do we owe a lot of money?” I ask.

My mom gets up and rinses the cloth with cold water again, then comes back and presses it gently against my forehead.

“A bit,” she says. “But we’ll manage. Like your dad says, we always do.”

She doesn’t sound very hopeful about this, though.

“That was nice of Micah to spend time with Ivy,” my mom says. “He’s such a sweet boy.”

She says it in that way that suggests he is the perfect boy. The perfect boyfriend, that is.

I picture Micah again with Sam and Sierra and how the way they were together isn’t like the way we used to be with friends. Now it’s clear who the girls are and who the boy is and we’re not just a bunch of friends — we’re potential “interests.” And having fun and fooling around isn’t just playing anymore — it’s flirting. And I don’t want it to be. I don’t want it all to change.

I get up from the table and rinse the cloth with cold water again. “I’m going to go lie down until I have to do chores at the Townsends,” I say.

“All right, honey. Let me know if you need anything. I guess I’m not working at the office today after all. Unless your dad comes back to get me.”

“He’ll come back, Mom,” I say. “He always does.”

“I know.”