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not like that, Mom.” But I can’t look Mom in the eyes. It feels like such a juvenile reaction over a girl that I don’t like.
    “Uh…” she teases. “I think it is exactly like that.”
    “I was asked by Jen to hang with her friend Kate.”
    “I’ve met Kate. She’s a pretty, smart girl. I thought she was dating someone?”
    “She was.”
    “What’s she like?” Mom’s smile is soft, and all her attention is on me, even though I know that part of her probably really wants a nap.
    “Pretty. A bit odd.” I stare at my lap remembering our night.
    “Which I think you like a little more than you want to admit,” she says.
    “I don’t know. Anything normal feels so many miles away right now.” I sigh and sag farther into the couch.
    Mom rubs her hand across my chest a few times. “But that normal is what’s going to make you feel better again. You know that, right?”
    “Yeah.” I nod. “I guess I know that.”
    “You’re just agreeing. Tell me what you’re thinking.” Mom touches the small scars on my neck and around my ear—footprints of shrapnel.
    “That even if I felt that way about Kate, she doesn’t feel that way about me.” No way. She’s young and does ridiculous things like dressing up in something she hates to get the attention of some guy who’s dating someone else.
    “Are you sure?”
    “I saw the ex, am related to her best friend, so I have some idea of her type, Mom.” After seeing Shelton, there’s no way she’d go for a guy who has no interest in moving beyond jeans and white T-shirts, and has no idea what to do with his life.
    “Well, I’m glad you came. I know it has to be weird for you here, and I still feel bad that I’m not set up better, you know, for you to stay.” She rests her head on the back of the couch and looks at me way too closely, the way she always has.
    “It’s okay. I feel like I have my own place, you know? It’s good.” But I only sort of have my own place, and I don’t feel right living there rent free, but I’m not sure how to go about fixing that just yet.
    “Good.” Her hand drops down from my scars.
    “And I know I need to sell my car. Uncle Foster’s been really nice about letting me drive his. All the guys at his work are drooling over mine.”
    Mom laughs. “Of course they are. They’re accountants.”
    “I guess.”
    “Aidan?” She waits until my eyes are squarely on hers. “You don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. As long you keep moving forward, I don’t care how slow it is. I only want to make sure you’re not sliding back.”
    That makes two of us.

5
Kate Walker
    I CAN’T CONCENTRATE IN school. I can’t concentrate at home. I forget that I’m supposed to be mad about not driving, and stop rolling my eyes at Mom when she checks my blood sugar the moment I walk in the door from school. The lack of snark in my life for the past two weeks is starting to be disturbing, but I’m not sure if I have it in me to care.
    I’m reading way ahead in English now, which isn’t unusual, but I am two books ahead, which means I’m halfway through Alas, Babylon , and we haven’t even had our Faulkner discussion yet.
    Even Mom says I need to get out more. Jen apologizes for being so busy, but it’s near the end of the school year, and she’s part of prom committee, student government, and Honor Society. Why does she have to be such an overachiever? I’m in Honor Society, but I’m not running around like a mad woman.
    Oh. And Mom announces that Deena will for sure be spending some time here while her husband, Lane, does some research or school midterms or something. She’ll need to be in my room because Deena’s old room is mom’s sewing room, and
    then Mom laid on the guilt trip— I know you’re a good sister and won’t mind .
    It sounds perfectly crappy to me, sharing my room with a sister who apparently is so sick she’s throwing everything up. I know I sound horrible, and I love my sister, but the only