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It was Monday morning, she was usually long gone when Max and I finally surfaced.
“Yesterday could have gone a lot better,” she murmured, running her thumbs around her mug of coffee.
“You ambushed me, Mom.” I let out a weary sigh. It was too early for this. “What did you expect?”
“I expected you to be the polite, acquiescing girl you’ve always been. You know, you could do a lot worse than Cooper Sinclair.”
“We literally have nothing in common except Columbia.”
“Because you didn’t even give him a chance, Celeste. Not all relationships have that instant spark you know. It can take time to build.”
I stared at her with utter disbelief. She was right. Cooper had tried to talk to me yesterday. By reeling off a list of his accomplishments. Class valedictorian. His impressive GPA. The time he spent shadowing a consultant at Albany Med over the summer. But not once at any part in our conversation did he think to ask me about myself. The whole thing had been super uncomfortable, not to mention awkward. It was at that point, I’d made my excuses and had gone to play with Pippa, Mrs. Sinclair’s chocolate Labrador.
“What is it you want from me, Mom?”
“Excuse me?” She had the audacity to look offended by my question.
“It’s not a difficult question.”
“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady,” she scoffed. “Really, Celeste, it’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
“Because I’m finally thinking for myself? Because I’ve finally realized that maybe there’s more to life than dinner parties, country clubs, and impressing the Vaughns and the Sinclairs and all your other friends?
“I’m seventeen, Mom. I want more. I want to try new things and make mistakes and get into trouble. I have my whole life to—”
“Stop.” Her voice shook with barely restrained anger. “Just. Stop.”
She took a big deep breath, flattening her palm against the counter. I hadn’t witnessed Sabrina Delacorte’s perfectly poised façade slip much. But lately—well, ever since Harleigh had come into our lives—it was happening more and more often. And part of me got it. It had rocked Mom’s carefully constructed world when Dad had brought Harleigh here. But I couldn’t understand her disdain for a girl who wasn’t responsible for the actions of her parents.
If Mom’s ire needed a target, it was my father. He was the one at fault here. Not Harleigh.
And certainly not me.
But love was a funny thing—made you do funny things. And maybe Mom was having some kind of existential crisis. Maybe watching her husband try to repair his relationship with his estranged daughter—a daughter who hadn’t grown up in our world—brought to light some insecurities she’d long buried.
“It isn’t fair, you know. To punish me because your own life is spinning out of control. Things change, Mom. People change, and that’s okay. Harleigh is a good person, not the poisonous creature you think she is. I’m not acting out because of anything she has done or said. I’m acting out because I’m seventeen and I want to make my own choices. I want—”
“Enough,” she snapped. “I have heard enough, Celeste. Mrs. Sinclair was kind enough to give you the volunteering spot at the center, and she has arranged a press release for Saturday afternoon. I told her you’d be there.”
“Mom, I’m not—”
“This is non-negotiable, Celeste. You will be there, and you will be the amiable girl I know you can be.”
Her words set my teeth on edge, but I didn’t argue. There was no point when she got like this. So single-minded that she couldn’t see past her own misguided expectations of how things should be.
“Fine,” I said, heading for the door. I couldn’t be around her for another second. My skin was too tight, the weight of expectation a crushing pressure on my chest.
I loved being at the center, helping out. Making a difference to the people I met and talked with. But I didn’t want to be a pawn. A poster child for potential donors. It wasn’t about that for me. It was about doing the work, actually making a difference. I didn’t want to pose with my mother, Mrs. Sinclair, and Cooper just so she could parade me around, preening about all the good work I was doing.
Max appeared at the bottom of the stairs and smiled. “Hey, what’s—”
“Leave me alone,” I said, moving around him toward the door.
I grabbed my keys and shoved my feet into my sneakers.
“Celeste, wait up,” he called after me, but I was already gone.
I’d rather be at school than spend another minute in a house with the woman I was slowly beginning to hate.
