Ethan was shooting me a questioning look, wondering what I was doing. When Tilly met my gaze, I gave her a silent plea: Back me up on this.
“Huge project.” Tilly groaned, taking my cue. “It counts for a lot of our grade.”
Thank you, my eyes told her.
“Oh.” Mom’s forehead creased. “Well, I can’t say no to a school project. But the afternoon is our biggest rush. I can’t manage on my own—”
“I’ll help,” Lanz jumped in, shooting me a smile that made my heart dance. “I can work every day after school.”
Mom thought it over, then finally nodded. “All right. But”—she held up a finger and looked at me—“you come to the parlor as soon as you’re finished at Tilly’s. Understood?”
I nodded, afraid to look her in the eyes. I hated having to lie, but what choice did I have? I would tell her the truth, when things settled down at the parlor.
“So you’re lying to your mom,” Ethan said as he walked me home under the hazy, moonlit sky. His voice was matter-of-fact, but there was a new, critical edge to it that made me squirm.
“I didn’t lie to her about the English project.” I gazed up at the moths circling the streetlamp above the sidewalk. “I just didn’t tell her about the dancing. But I will.”
“I can’t see how this is going to work. She’s going to find out.”
“She is, because I’m going to tell her. Eventually.” I stared at him. “Look … why are you being weird about this? I thought you’d be excited for me.”
“I am!” His step quickened and his hand tensed in mine. “Was this Lanz’s idea?”
“What? No!” I was glad my blush was disguised in the evening shadows. “Why would you say that?”
Suddenly, I was wishing we’d said yes when Tilly’d invited us back to her house for TV and pizza. Andres and Lanz had gone with her, but when Ethan had said he had Invention Convention work to do tonight, I’d said I was tired. Really, I’d been wary of hanging out with Lanz without Ethan, dreading that heady confusion he caused in me. What I hadn’t expected was for Ethan to grill me within a minute of leaving the parlor.
Ethan shrugged. “No reason. Only … he’s so lax with everything. And you were pretty much with him all day.”
“I didn’t have a choice. He had to introduce me to his mom, and he’s working at the parlor now.”
Ethan frowned. “You know half the girls at school have a thing for him.”
“What?” There was something about his tone that gave me pause. Wait a sec … was he jealous?
He shrugged, giving me a small, sheepish smile. “Just saying.”
“Lucky for you, Italian accents aren’t my thing.” I said it teasingly, but when he didn’t laugh, I stopped to face him, squeezing his hand in mine. “Hey. You’re my boyfriend, remember? And I make my own decisions. You know that.”
Ethan nodded as we climbed the stairs to the apartment. “It’s just not like you to keep stuff from your mom. I mean, since the divorce you’ve been … protective of her.”
My heart squeezed in my chest. He knew me so well. “But that’s part of why I’m waiting to tell her. She was in such a bad mood at the parlor today, and you know how she’s been about dance.” I dug my key from my pocket. “I want to find the right time, and a way to say it so that there’s no chance we’ll end up fighting about it.”
Ethan smiled at me. “You’re right. You can handle your mom. And … well, it’s great of Lanz to have set this whole dance thing up for you.”
I put my arms around him, giving him a hug. “Thanks,” I said into his shoulder.
He kissed me lightly, sweetly, but as he did, my mind whirred with a new, startling question. Was this lukewarm coziness how a kiss was supposed to feel? In a flash, I thought of how my pulse spiked whenever I was around Lanz. I pushed the thought away as a shiver of guilt ran through me.
“Chilly?” Ethan asked.
“I … must be.” I stepped inside. “See you tomorrow at school.”
I shut the door, leaning against it and trying to clear my head. Yup. Chilly … in eighty-degree weather. That had to be the problem.
When Mom walked through the door half an hour later, I held up the tray of sandwiches I’d just finished making.
“Dinner,” I announced.
“Lifesaver.” Mom kissed me on the cheek and sank onto the couch. “What a day.”
I set the tray on the coffee table and handed Mom her sandwich—toasted bread layered with apricot cream cheese, pineapple, egg, and ham. It was one of our long-time favorites, a Hawaiian specialty, and easy enough for me to make without Mom’s help.
The sandwich was usually an automatic mood-booster for Mom, but not tonight. As I finished my sandwich, Mom was still nibbling at hers, wearing a distant, preoccupied expression.
“Mom?” I nudged her. “Want to watch some Gilmore Girls?” She loved that show, but she only shook her head.
“Malie, we need to talk,” she said, her voice drained. “Mr. Sneeves doesn’t think I’m doing a good job managing the shop. Our menu needs updating. We need to draw in more customers, make our flavors more exotic. If I can’t do that …” Her voice faltered.
“What?” I scooted closer to Mom. I hadn’t seen her this upset since I was younger, back when she and Dad fought all the time.
“If I can’t do that, he’s going to look for a new parlor manager,” she whispered.
Fury blazed a trail from my head to my toes. “He can’t do that!”
“He can do whatever he wants.”
“He’s such a jerk.” I stood up and stomped to the sink with my plate, resisting the urge to slam it onto the counter. “You’ve been telling him for weeks that the
