I have a good reason to lie to her, and no reason not to, right? If I tell her what I am really after—namely, hair removal and general beautifying—she’ll definitely find that suspicious. And if she finds out what I’m up to tonight, she’ll put a stop to it. She isn’t going to be good with it, like Nick’s dad. She isn’t one of those no-sex-before-you’re-married types of mothers, but she’s definitely a wait-until-college one. Not that we’ve ever talked about it outside of that single conversation about sex we had when I was a kid. Apparently she was cool about the topic of sex when Afton told her about her experience, but I doubt she’ll be similarly chill with me. In fact, Afton’s not-so-great sexual encounters might even make Mom more protective, now that it’s my turn.

“We have an opening for a hot stone massage in about ten minutes,” Malia says.

Mom is still frowning.

“Come on,” I plead. “We’re on vacation. Don’t I deserve some pampering?”

Mom’s lips purse the way they do when she’s weighing her options. “All right, if that’s what you want. I just envisioned us having a day together.”

“The entire day?” I say, aghast. I don’t know how I could stand to be with my mom for an entire day, knowing what I know.

“We could head back to the room and change into our swimsuits,” she says. “Then maybe you and I could go paddleboarding. Word is, you’ve been wanting to do that all week. I thought we could do it together.”

There’s nothing in her eyes, no accusations, no awareness, just a kind of hopefulness. She wants to hang out with me.

“When your stepdad and I got married, we came to Hawaii for our honeymoon, and we went paddleboarding this one morning,” she says, because she doesn’t know that I already know this story. “It was beautiful. Almost magical. This would be different, I know. It’s more a tailored experience here. But I’d like to share something like that with you.”

It feels good, being around her, hearing her say she appreciates me, that she’s listening, that she’s not going to take me for granted anymore. It’s what I’ve wanted for such a long time, for my mother to see me. To value me. To want to spend time with me.

But I can’t.

It’s too late, I think bitterly. No amount of her being interested in me now will ever make up for what she’s done. “I have plans today.” I look away before I can see the disappointment flare up in her expression. “By myself. Sorry. Yoga was fun, but now I have to go do my own thing. But I’ll see you at the awards ceremony tonight, okay?”

“Oh,” she says softly. “Ada—”