“He just asked if I’m going to the bonfire,” I reply, slipping the phone back into my pocket.
Mom goes quiet, her gaze turning inward.
Then, after a long second, she says softly, “I don’t want you to go.”
I cross my arms, leaning against the counter. “Why not?"
"That boy, his family comes with history. Complications."
"You mean, like, rich and popular complications? Welcome to high school."
She exhales, rubbing her temples. "It’s not that simple, Maya. The Sharpes aren’t just popular. They’re tied to things you don’t understand, things I hoped wouldn’t touch you."
"Like what? Because every time I ask, you shut me down. You act like this town has some massive secret, and I’m the only one who didn’t get the memo."
"You don’t know what’s out there."
"And you’re not telling me!" My voice raises in frustration. "All I want is to go to one stupid bonfire. And suddenly you’re acting like I’ll be swallowed whole by ancient evil or something."
She steps forward, her expression pinched. Her voice lowers."Maya, please. Just trust me on this. Stay home tomorrow night. We can order pizza, watch that old musical you like, the one with the dancing ghosts."
"Ghostbusters isn’t a musical," I mumble, trying not to smile.
Despite the tension, her lips twitch upward for half a second. "You know what I mean."
"Mom..." My tone softens. "You always say you want me to have a normal life. But the second something feels even close to normal, friends, parties, you pull me away."
"Because normal isn’t safe. Not for us." Her eyes shine with something I can’t quite decipher, like grief and guilt wrapped in steel.
"You’re talking in riddles again."
"I'm trying to protect you."
"From what?" I whisper.
She opens her mouth, then closes it again. Shakes her head. "Please. Just this once. Stay home. Say no to Bolton Sharpe."
I look down at my phone. The screen is still lit with his second text.You should come.
The more we argue, the more I want to go tomorrow night. What is she worried about?
"There are things you don'tunderstand—"
"Then help me understand!" I interrupt. "Ever since we moved here, you've been acting weird. You grew up here, but you never talk about it. You brought us back, but you seem scared of everything. What am I missing?"
For a moment, I think she might actually tell me something real. Her eyes, so like mine, fill with conflict. But then she closes off, that familiar wall coming back up.
"You're not going to the bonfire, and that's final." She turns back to the stove, effectively ending the conversation.
I stand there for a moment, seething with frustration, before grabbing my backpack and heading to my room. Once there, I pull out my notebook and write:
Rule #9: When your mother forbids you from going somewhere for no good reason, that's exactly where you need to be.
I stare at Bolton's text for a long minute before typing back:
I'll be there.
Whatever secrets Stone Mountain is hiding, whatever secrets my mother is hiding, I'm going to find out what they are, starting with that bonfire tomorrow night.
