“What is that face?!” Deanna asks. “Your mom again?”
“Nope, just Kayla,” I say, trying not to let my tone betray how I really feel.
“Ohhh. I was asking because my mom hovers like nobody’s business. So you don’t have to be embarrassed or anything,” she says with a shrug. “I mean, how many times has she come in here already?” She motions toward the door.
It’s true. Since I arrived twenty minutes ago, Deanna’s mom has come in twice—once to show me upstairs, and another to check in on us.
“Oh, trust me, if this wasn’t for a project, I would be in the house… where my mom can hear my every footstep.”
Deanna chuckles. “So annoying.” She pauses like she wants to say something but isn’t sure if she should.
“What?” I ask, curious.
“How’s it going with you and Kayla? We all sit together at lunch, and I haven’t seen you.”
“Oh no, it’s all good,” I say quickly. But my face must be giving me away.
“Is it really?”
I sigh, trying to find a way to put it that doesn’t throw Kayla under the bus and make her even more angry with me. “I think Kayla just wants me to make my own way at school.”
Deanna purses her lips. I recognize the expression from class. She does it when she’s thinking about the right answer to one of Ms. Taylor’s questions. “I’ll talk to her,” she says.
“No, Deanna, don’t.” My words come out all in a rush.
“Okay, if you’re sure?”
“I’m sure. It’s fine,” I say. It’s nice that Deanna wants to help, but talking to Kayla about me could cause more trouble than it’s worth. The whole reason she warned me off Deanna was because she didn’t want me encroaching on her territory.
“All right,” Deanna says, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get started.” She pulls her journal into her lap. “Do you want me to go down there? Or do you want to come up here?”
I hesitate. I’m fine with either, but I’m sure she has a reason for asking. “I guess I’ll come up there?”
She senses the hesitation. “I mean, you don’t have to. I was just thinking that it’ll feel more like a real interview if we’re across from each other.”
I smile. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” I grab my journal and pen and join her at the window on the soft blue bench. The sun is streaming in, warming my back. I scoot a little, making sure to leave enough room between us.
We’d originally set up at her desk, which is next to the door.She didn’t say why, but she’s not allowed to close it. I could relate—doors at the center were always kept open, except the ones you could escape through. We ended up near the window because it was the only way to get privacy.
Deanna’s mom pops her head in again. “You girls want anything from the kitchen?”
Deanna looks at her, then at me. “You want something?”
I don’t know what to ask for, and I don’t want to sound stupid. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“Just some snacks and soda, please, we have a lot to do,” she says.
Her mom’s brown eyes crinkle at the corners as she smiles. “Okay, sweetie, be right back.”
When her mom is out of earshot, Deanna turns to me. “See?” she says. “Hovering.”
I position myself against the window, blocking the sun with one hand and trying to rip out a page with the other.
“Need help?” she asks, amused by the struggle. She holds the journal for me as I rip out the page I’ve written my questions on.
“This is your copy,” I say, pushing the paper toward her.
“Who are you, really?Good question.” She looks up at me. “Do you know who you really are yet?”
