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CHAPTER TWO
ZOEYWASHUNCHEDover her coffee when Hazel came down for breakfast the next morning. Her daughter stopped in the doorway.
“Do you want me to get you a straw for that caffeine juice? Or maybe an IV?”
“Ha ha.” Zoey straightened in her chair. Mornings werenother happy time. “I’m just trying to appreciate the complete magic bean experience—the way it swirls in my mug. The amazing aroma. The jolt when it hits my bloodstream. And before you ask, yes, it’s organic fair-trade coffee. I won’t let my caffeine addiction harm the planet.”
“Good job, Mom.” Zoey pulled a box of all-natural granola from the cupboard. Between saving the planet and eating organic foods, their grocery bill was probably double what it would be if Hazel wasn’t such a passionate little activist. It was okay, though. Zoey was proud that her daughter cared enough to take a stand on global issues at such a young age. And Zoey kept a hidden stash of junk food out in the workshop for herself.
Hazel settled at the table with her cereal and a glass of juice and began her ritual of scrolling through her phone. Today’s fashion was a colorful tie-dye T-shirt with a smiley face on it—apparently those were making a comeback—with baggy white capris and Roman-style sandals.
In both grade school and high school, Zoey had taken a fair amount of grief from classmates about her denim and flannel wardrobe and her father’s home with his so-called sculptures in the yard. Kids could be jerks, but the McKinnon twins always had her back. Mike and Mary were part of a well-known local family, with lots of cousins who also welcomed Zoey into their circle. Their grandmother, Maura McKinnon, would often have the family and all their stray friends come to her home on Sundays for a big meal after church.
Those noisy gatherings had been a revelation to Zoey, who was used to having a quiet meal with her dad at the little kitchen table, or more often, in front of the television, eating from TV tables. Her dad was a loving man, but in a quiet way. She knew he’d never intended to be raising a little girl on his own, but he’d done the best he could after her mom died so suddenly. She’d grown up following him around the shop and riding along on house calls, so it wasn’t surprising that she’d developed the same interest in tinkering that he had.
Dad hadn’t been much of a conversationalist but spending time with the McKinnons had given her all the conversation—and hugs and I-love-yous—that she’d needed.
“Earth to Mom?”
Zoey flinched. “What?”
“I’ve been talking, but you’re in a fog. The magic beans aren’t doing their thing yet, huh?”
“Sorry. I guess I am a bit hazy this morning.” That extra glass of whiskey may not have been such a great idea last night. “What were you saying?”
“I was saying I need to be in the detention room by eight o’clock. I can’t be late.”
Zoey glanced at her watch and swore. “Okay, we’re outta here in five minutes.” She drained her coffee and stood. “What are you going to do all day?”
“We have to do school-related stuff, so I’m going to catch up on homework, read a few chapters in my history textbook and work on my term paper for English.”
Zoey nodded and turned away, heading to her bedroom to do something with her hair. But she stopped in the doorway, turning slowly.
“What do you mean by ‘catch up on homework’? Are youbehindon homework?”
“Out of my whole list,thosewords are the only ones you heard, huh?”
“That is not an answer.”
Hazel’s eyes rolled skyward. “I didn’t do last night’s homework because I knew I’d be able to do it today.That’swhat I meant. Okay, Momster?” Not Zoey’s favorite nickname, but she was learning to choose her battles. Hazel stood. “If I’m late, they’ll give me another day of suspension.”
Zoey hurried up to her bedroom to grab a sweatshirt from the stack on her dresser. She checked to make sure it didn’t say anything inappropriate, in case Principal Sheffield wanted to talk to her. She was safe—it was from The Spot Diner in town. It was a gift from her friend Evie, who had given it to her after Zoey and Chris split up. Evie had jokingly referred to it as a prize for the most tears shed into coffee cups that month.
Chris hadn’t been happy when Zoey called him last night about Hazel’s suspension. He was worried Hazel was getting too sassy for her own good, but Zoey reminded him that the school counselor had warned them that it was natural for children her age to “act out” a bit after a divorce. Hazel had to figure out her place in the new dynamic. Having the divorce happen just as Hazel entered puberty made it feel as though her daughter had gone from Barbie dolls to bras overnight.
She was pretty sure Chris’s new opinions on parenting were thanks to Genna-with-a-G, who had opinions on lots of things. She didn’t seem to be a bad person as far as Zoey could tell. Just...opinionated. And Chris was still in the glow of new love—Zoey tugged on her overalls—so he was hanging on his new fiancée’s every word.
“I’m in the truck, Momster!”
Zoey ground her teeth together, biting back her annoyance. Hazel was trying to get a reaction, and she wasn’t going to give it. She headed to the door, turning off all the lights her daughter had ignored on her way out. Sure, Hazel claimed to love the planet, but she was a teenager and therefore allergic to turning off light switches.
“Mom!Let’sgo!” Hazel had opened her window to call out.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Zoey slid into the truck. She knew Hazel preferred being seen in their red compact car, but she had a house call today and needed the work vehicle. “We’re going.”
She’d barely started to turn the truck around when Hazel stopped her. “Do you have your work schedule with you? All the parts you need? Did you pack your lunch?”
This kid was a better business manager than Zoey was.
