It feels powerful to make something for yourself. I had no idea.
Mom pokes her head into the room. “What on earth is that sound? Oh, wow, you’re trying that again.”
“I think I might be doing better this time,” I say. I don’t want Mom to feel like I’m eager to bond with her, but I also don’t want her to think my disastrous class at Sew L.A.—that she’d paid for, after all—was repeating itself in my bedroom. “See? I made a bag.”
“Honey, that’s actually nice,” she says. “Can you make me a green one?”
I riffle through the fabric. “I don’t have any green, but maybe I can get some.”
She sits down on my bed behind me. “You know that I just want the best for you, Abby, right?”
“Is this about me being fat?” I ask.
“Don’t call yourself that,” she says.
“Why not? It’s not an insult, just a thing. A thing I am.”
“I just want you happy and healthy and—”
“I’m very healthy. Dr. Misra says so. Remember?”
“Hmmm,” Mom says. Every year after my annual physical, it seems she’s determined something’s wrong with me that could be cured by skinniness. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”
Adults say things like this when they didn’t expect you to catch on to their supposedly subtle coded messages. You’re expected to be mature but you’re also taken for a child.
“I exercise more than you and Dad do,” I point out. “I walk everywhere.”
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” she says. “Don’t you think it’s time you got serious about getting your driver’s license?”
“No,” I say. “I’m going to New York for college. I’ll take the subway everywhere.”
“What if you want to take a road trip?” she asks.
“I won’t.” When we were little, Dad’s best friend Andrew lived in San Francisco, so the four of us would drive up every summer to spend a week in a hotel where you could see the Golden Gate Bridge if you looked out the window the right way. And none of that was worth it for the combined twelve hours there and back in the car with my family. “Trust me. Road trips are terrible.”
“They’re more fun when you’re with your friends,” Mom says with a smile like she can read my mind. “Can we work on this your senior year?”
I shrug.
“That’s all I wanted to talk about,” she says. “Okay? I don’t know why it always has to turn into an argument with us.”
“Seriously?” I ask. “It doesn’t seem like much of a mystery to me.”
Mom sighs. “I’m sorry that I thought you were going on a date with Jax. I didn’t at all mean to offend you, Abby. I didn’t realize that you’d …”
“Stayed gay?”
She shakes her head. “That’s not what I meant either. Abby, I just came in here to see if you wanted to get your learner’s permit. That’s it.”
For a tiny moment, I feel sorry for Mom. I’m no fan of her brand, but I know she works hard constantly. She built Eat Healthy with Norah! from the ground up, and now she’s on TV and will have a book. I want to be proud of her.
But I also know that everything about me disappoints her. So the rest kind of fades away.
“I don’t,” I say.
“Fine, Abby.”
Without thinking, I look to Rachel’s side of the room, like she’ll magically be there and will crack the right joke to perfectly diffuse the tension. But it’s just Mom and me and all the same problems between us.
CHAPTER 16
“Is it possible to be romantic without a car?”
Maliah’s face is suddenly deep in thought. “Hmmm.”
“Yes,” Zoe says. “Anything can be romantic if you want it to.”
“Oh dear god.” Brooke nearly spits out her bubble tea. We’re out front of the tiny Boba Loca just down the street from Lemonberry, and my second date with Jordi is only hours away. Brooke and Zoe are pro-boba, but Maliah and I agree that you shouldn’t have to chew a beverage, so we’re both sipping regular smoothies.
“Zoe’s gotten cheesier now that she has a boyfriend,” Maliah says. “Much cheesier.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Zoe says and blushes. “We’re just talking a lot.”
“And you made out,” Maliah says.
The rest of us practically scream as Zoe hides behind her boba as best she can.
“Are you planning a date without a car?” Brooke asks me.
“With your lady?” Zoe asks, and now it’s me who’s blushing.
“Yes. I thought of everything for our second date—Jordi totally planned the first one—but now I’m rethinking all of it. Is it stupid?”
“What else are you going to do?” Maliah asks. “Have your dad drive you?”
“Oh god, no,” I say. “Ask her to drive? That just seems … I don’t know. Ugh, god, maybe my mom is right about one thing.”
“Actually, using an avocado instead of cheese is also a good tip,” Brooke says. “What? I read her blog to support your family, Abby.”
“Don’t worry,” Zoe says. “Since Jordi really likes you, she’ll be fine with walking. She’ll love walking. I don’t think Brandon can drive, and that’s fine.”
“She’ll make Brooke drive them around on dates,” Maliah says, and we burst into laughter.
“It seems easier to date a girl,” Brooke says.
“I agree.” Zoe sips thoughtfully on her drink. “If you have your period, a girl would understand and bring you tea and chocolate.”
“And you can trade clothes,” Brooke says.
“Trevor gives me chocolate,” Maliah says.
“And Jordi and I don’t exactly wear the same size,” I say. “Or style. You guys make being a lesbian sound like a Hallmark Christmas movie.”
“I’d watch that,” Brooke says.
“I was remembering something from last year,” Zoe says. “We had to do this optic mix project in art class, where we made an image from
