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“Then why else would Xander ditch putt-putt? You said he wanted to go.”
“He did, he did.” Her brows bunch, the Philly streets a little congested tonight. She’s focused on driving, but Xander’s absence could swallow our car like some freakish aquatic villain. I feel like we’re in the belly of a beast and not just headed towards Putt Palace.
Two black security SUVs are also trailing us. Monroe, my mom’s 24/7 bodyguard, and Frog drive one vehicle, and Frog’s backup squad drive the other. The fact that my mom requested no security to be in our car just means she wants more private family time.
Maybe she knew I’d be upset.
“He hates that I like Donnelly,” I say. The urge to sink in my seat is powerful within me.
Mom tries to look at me and the road. “Hate is a strong word, and I think he dislikes that Donnelly loves you.” My entire body floats at her use of the word love. “And he feels not great about his own feelings.”
“So he’s mad at Donnelly?”
“I wouldn’t say…mad.” She uses her blinker and switches lanes. She had to take her car into the shop, and this rental has the pungent “new car” smell. It’s also missing an X-Men Cyclops bobblehead on the dash and a middle console full of Sour Patch Kids.
The sterileness of the rental car adds some discomfort. I try not to slouch so much, but my back feels stiff. Mother-daughter time is less frequent since I moved out and I’m getting older, and I shouldn’t take this outing with her for granted. But again, Xander was supposed to be here.
I imagine my brother wishes Donnelly chose him over me. The same way Beckett does. “It’s not a competition,” I mutter, tendons of my heart twisting.
My mom reaches out and puts a consoling hand on mine. She retracts quickly, just to have two hands on the wheel. “What’s with this traffic tonight?” She carefully maneuvers around what resembles a paparazzi vehicle.
Their window rolls. I see the lens right before the blinding flash.
Yep, definitely paparazzi.
We squint, but Mom avoids them really well.
“Xander’s just holing up then?” I ask her.
“He’ll come out eventually,” she nods resolutely. “Like you.” Her green eyes dart to my amber. “I don’t like seeing you locked away.”
Me either. “It was just a week of total seclusion, really.”
“For you, that might as well be a millennium. You’re my child who’s either traveling by imagination or by foot.” She honks the horn at the paparazzi, then switches into another lane. “Have you been writing at all?”
I shake my head.
“Did you nod?” she asks. “I can’t look away from the street to see.”
“I shook my head.”
Her frown deepens.
“It’s just been hard,” I say quietly. “There’s too many negative voices in my head, I guess, telling me I’m gross for writing…” I trail off, unsure if I should even bring this up with my mom. It might lead to topics of shame and sex addiction, and it hurts thinking I might hurt her.
She waits for me to say more, but I never do.
“You’re not gross,” Mom reminds me again. “You’re creative and talented. So talented.”
I look at my hands, fingernails painted a sparkly purple. I want to believe her, but she’s my mom—a kind, amazing mom who will always try to lift me up, especially when others are kicking me down.
My phone suddenly pings.
I click into the Fanaticon notification and let out a gasp, springing upward in my seat. “Beneath a Strong Sentiment just got renewed!”
Her mouth drops. “Whaa…no, it didn’t.” She starts smiling with me.
I grin at the article. Renewed. It’s really coming back next year for season two. “They already have plans to start filming. Now you have to finish the whole first season, Mom.”
“Oh, I will. Lo and I will binge it this weekend.” She hasn’t seen beyond episode one because she feared it’d get cancelled, and she didn’t want to fall too hard for something that wouldn’t last.
Maybe I’m more destructive that way. Falling for things that might have short expiration dates.
I’m about to text Donnelly to tell him the good news, but the car jerks.
“Sorry.” Her voice is caught in slight panic. Rain begins to pelt the windshield, and I see several windows rolled down in the cars surrounding us.
I sit more upright and peer out the rear window. “What happened to security?”
“They’re stuck behind two cars. It’s okay. This happens all the time.” She’s white-knuckling the wheel.
My phone buzzes several times in a row. I check the new texts.
TOM
You’re going to Putt Palace without us?
ELIOT
How dare you.
TOM
We’ll be there in thirty or you’ll be turned into a square
ELIOT
We can’t let that happen.
I know they’ll understand that I just want to hang out with my mom. Before I can reply, they send an article link.
HALE OUTING ALERT! Lily Calloway is taking her children to Putt Palace tonight!
