“Mrs. Rodriguez, is everything okay?”

She nods quickly. Too quickly, it seems to me, and Jackson’s father must see it, too. He glances down, takes in my mother’s full appearance. And that’s when he notices the still-fresh mark on her arm from my father’s belt.

“Mrs. Rodriguez, if there’s anything wrong, all you have to do is ask me to come inside.”

My mom looks at my father, and I think it will be like always. But then she looks at me, and her face hardens.

“Please come inside,” she says. “My husband is—”

My father registers the betrayal she’s about to commit and grabs her by the arm. “You bitch,” he says, pulling her inside—

Jackson’s father moves like lightning. He grabs my father, removes him from my mom, and pins him against the wall.

“You do realize I can arrest you for domestic violence, right?” he yells at my father.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” My father’s yells are muffled by the wall.

Is Jackson’s father always like this? That quick to act? Or had he already suspected my father was abusive? Maybe all this time I thought we were so good at hiding who we really were, but the truth was obvious to everyone but us.

“Nora, do you want me to take him?” he asks.

She swallows and looks at me. Then she turns back and nods.

We watch as my father is cuffed and thrown into the back of Jackson’s father’s cop car. I’m not sure what to think about this. Does my father deserve to be arrested? I don’t know.

As soon as the cop car is out of sight, I say, “Dad was right. It was my fault.”

My mother turns and looks me in the eyes for a second. Then she wraps her arms around me again and squeezes me tighter than I’ve ever been hugged. I hug her back, even though I’m not really sure what it means.

She pulls away, not to retreat but to put her hands around my face. “Don’t you ever say that again. You didn’t ask for this.” Her lips quiver. “You only wanted to be loved.” She pulls me back into her arms. “I’m sorry, Anna. I should have been there for you sooner.” Her voice falls apart, a quaking mess, and she sobs into my shoulder. “I should have done something. I should have…” She pauses, then simply says, “I love you.” She presses her mouth into my hair and whispers it over and over again.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

And for the first time, I believe her.

My memories of New York will always be there, and they might always be stronger. But today, I sleep better than I ever have. My brain is on overload, shutting down to protect itself—it’s about time.

A couple of times, my mom knocks on the door to let me know someone called for me. First Jackson, just to let me know he hopes I’m okay. Then Marissa, Alex, and Jen.

Oh, crap. I hope they’re okay. I hope the plan went okay. I hope Marissa is free of Brandon. I hope Jen no longer feels afraid.

I hope they’re all okay, even if I won’t ever be.

I don’t wake up in time for school the next day, but again, my mother says nothing. She just lets me sleep.

I put Zara outside, because I’m pretty sure I’d be torturing her if I didn’t get her to the bathroom, then I head back to my room.

I’m not sure how much longer I’ll stay like this, avoiding everyone. A few times, my mom lets me know my friends called to check on me, but I’m not ready to talk to them. I’m not ready to face their reactions to the truth.

The next day, the phone rings around noon, and my mother answers close enough to my bedroom door that I can hear her talking.

“She’s fine. She’s in her room.”

My first thought is of Jackson, but he’d be at school now.

Then there’s a light knock.

“I don’t want to talk to anyone,” I say, even though I’m not sure that’s true.

“It’s Sarah.”

I open my mouth to yell something back, but that’s not what I expected to hear, so I answer the door. “Sarah?”

Why do I feel like it’s been years since I’ve seen her? It’s only been a few weeks.

My mother hands me the phone.

“Hello?”

“Anna!” She sounds tired but happy it’s me. “I heard about what happened. Are you all right?”

“I’ll live. I always do.”

“I’m on my way there if you’re up for a visit. We’re going to have a long talk. It’s been too long. I should be there in less than an hour.”

“Oh,” I say awkwardly. “You’re already on your way?”

“Yup.”

“Okay,” I say, secretly happy she’ll be here. As much as shutting myself off from the rest of the world is effective, I’m lonely and bored and starving. And at least I know Sarah doesn’t hate me for the truth.

“Are you hungry? Would you like to get dinner when I get there so we can talk? Or is your mother cooking?”

“Um, I don’t think so. Dinner would be okay, I guess.” I don’t tell her that I haven’t eaten in days, practically.

“Good, be ready in about forty-five minutes.”

My mother is very tense when I hand the phone back to her. There’s more than one thick line on her forehead.

“Sarah’s coming. She’s going to take me to dinner. That okay?”

“Oh.” She straightens. “Do you want to go?”

The question knocks me for a loop. What do I want? The very idea feels weird.

“Yeah. It would be nice to see her.”

“Then you should go. Maybe she can help you talk about some of these things.” She looks away, then turns back and quickly adds, “If that’s what you want.”

I go back to my room and search through my clothes for something to wear. Is it better to wear something Sarah bought me or some of my new things? I go for a happy medium, one of the tops my mom bought with a sweater Sarah bought over it.

Then I stand in the kitchen for a moment, trying to think of something else to do while waiting for Sarah.

I do want to talk to her. I need to. But what will I say? She’s been okay with the truth so far, but there are some things not even she knows about.

Finally the doorbell rings.

My mother answers the door, and I notice she’s put on fresh makeup. She looks much better now than she did when the call came. In fact, she looks better than she ever has. I don’t know when my dad’s coming back, but maybe that doesn’t matter. Today, Mom seems truly alive.

Sarah and my mother exchange a polite greeting, then Sarah asks me if I’m ready. I nod and walk out with her, sending a smile to my mother as we leave.

The car ride is silent except for when Sarah asks me what I want to eat. The rest of the ride, I just watch the houses as they fly by. We end up going to Friendly’s, which is a cheesy little restaurant. It’s the place you take your little brats after soccer games, but it’s good food, so whatever.

When we sit down, we don’t start talking immediately. She orders some coffee, and I get a Coke. Then, once our drinks arrive, she starts asking me questions. Lots of questions. They start off small, simple.

“How has everything been?”

“What’s your favorite subject in school?”

“I see you got a new top.”

But when they don’t get much out of me, she goes straight to the real things I knew she’d want to talk about.

“Your mother mentioned your father’s not home right now.”

I look at the table. “Is that all she said?”

“She said he has some problems. And the police had to get involved.”

“Is that what she said? That they’re his problems?”

She shrugs. “Yeah.”

“What did you tell her? You’ve always got something to say.” I know how harsh I sound, and I want to say I’m sorry, but she doesn’t seem to take offense.

“I told her if she wants some help, I can put her in contact with a therapist. Someone to help her. You. Your whole family, if that’s what all of you want.”

“Great,” I say. “More talking.”

“What about you? How do you feel about him leaving?”

“I’m glad he’s gone.”

“Because of what happened after homecoming?”

“You know about that, huh?” I say, looking down at my sandwich. I guess I knew she would. That’s why she came, right? That why I wanted her to come. It’s just that now, I sorta wish we could skip that part of the conversation.