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“You need time,” she says. “I know.”
“I’m not sure time will fix it,” I admit. “I really just…” I look her right in the eyes. “I don’t trust you anymore.”
She flinches, just a little, but enough.
“You have every right not to,” she says sadly. “But I’m going to keep trying to make it up to you. And in the meantime, can we have a truce?” Her voice catches and she coughs. “Can we be more open with each other?”
“I guess,” I say.
“All right,” Mom says. “It’s a start.” She stands up from the table and takes a step toward the door, but not before smoothing down my hair. I want to pull away, but I don’t; as much as I hate so many things she’s done, I don’t hate the affection.
“The hair,” she says. “I like it.”
I turn in my chair and look at her; she has tears in her eyes but she sniffs them away. “The blue suits you.”
After she’s gone, when I walk through the entryway and catch a glimpse of myself, I take comfort in knowing that she was right about something, at least. And as she said, it’s a start.
thirty-one
My part is no longer first half.
Student government, chemistry, trigonometry, psychology, Spanish, dance, and creative writing are all mine to love or loathe, to pass or fail.
“Ready for this?” Sean asks the morning of my first day back. We’re in the student lot; we drove together in Sean’s car. It’s crisp and bright outside, and I’m wearing an outfit that I picked out by myself. My hair is sleek, and despite my nervousness, I’m smiling.
“I think so,” I say, grabbing Sean’s hand. As we make our way toward the school, we get a lot of attention from other kids. Maybe it’s because we’re still a new couple; maybe it’s because of my makeover. Most likely, it’s a bit of both. Little do they know that what’s changed is so much more than my hair.
When our reflections show up on the outside of the glass near the doors, Sean says quietly, “You know you look ridiculously hot, right?” My stomach flips; I squeeze his hand.
“I adore you,” I say, “and not just for the compliments.”
Dave looks surprised by my appearance in student government, but he otherwise leaves me alone, which is just fine by me. Chemistry and trigonometry are less nightmarish than I expected; between trig and psych, I run into Alison in the hallway.
“Elizabeth, your hair is awesome!” she says, smiling brightly.
“Thanks!” I say back. “Did you have a good Thanksgiving?”
“Ugh, the usual,” she says, shrugging. “Turkey, family drama, forced board games. How about you?”
“It was pretty uneventful,” I say. “Hey, let’s get coffee again sometime soon.”
“Anytime!” Alison says, her face brightening.
“How about today?” I ask. She looks surprised.
“What about cheer?” she asks. “Don’t you have practice?”
>“But you don’t want to go down and hear it yourself?”
“I can’t,” I say. “I don’t want to be near her.”
“I get it,” Sean says. “Are you sure you don’t want me to ditch my mom? We can talk on the phone all afternoon.”
“Thanks, but go spend some time with Harper,” I say. “You’re lucky to have her for a mom. And I’m fine.” I sigh, looking around. “I think I’m going to rearrange my room.”
Later, when the bed’s on the opposite wall and I’ve taped my photos into a funky swirl pattern over the headboard, there’s a soft knock at the door. Ella peeks in; Betsey pushes her way through.
“That’s really cool,” Bet says, pointing at the pictures before flopping down next to me.
