Mortal Danger

“That’s what happens when you lie and go to New Hampshire instead of the library,” I said, imitating my dad.

“I’m well aware, trust me.”

Before I went to class, I texted Kian that I didn’t need a ride. I felt bad making him chauffeur me around when I had plans with other people, so I told him I’d be with Davina and my mom at the gym. He replied, I wouldn’t mind giving you and Davina a ride but it’s fine. I’ll move my stuff out of storage today instead.

That made me smile as I replied, Does that mean you’ll read me another poem?

Maybe.

When I put my phone away, Davina was smirking at me. “Girl, you so can’t get enough of what he got.”

“You learn that grammar at Blackbriar?”

“Obviously.”

I smiled at her. “See you after school.”

We met up at the gates; Davina arrived first and we took the T to my place. She soaked everything in with an interested look. “I can tell your parents are teachers.”

The jumble of science journals and notepads no longer registered on me, but to someone else, it probably looked messy. “Professors, actually. Physics.” I’d mentioned it before, but maybe it didn’t sink in.

“Damn. No wonder nobody can touch you in that class.”

Since I’d invited her at the last minute, she needed workout gear. My T-shirt and yoga pants were a little big on her, but since the point was to sweat, it didn’t matter. It was odd having her in my room—two worlds colliding—but she didn’t say anything about all my scientist posters or my piles of books. Relieved, I texted my mom: I’m on my way with Davina. Be there soon.

Okay. I’ll head over.

Introductions were awkward since my mom knew I went AWOL with Davina, but she fixed it with, “You must think I’m a bad influence, but I want you to know I’ll never ask Edie to do anything like that again. I hope you’ll give me another chance.”

Mom smiled. “Everyone makes mistakes, Davina, and yours was understandable. I’m glad to meet you.”

“Do you mind calling my mother to reassure her I’m with you?” She dialed and offered her cell with a sheepish look.

“Not a problem.” Mom waited for the call to connect, then said, “Hello, this is Mildred Kramer, Edie’s mom. I’m verifying that the girls are here. We’re working out this afternoon.” A pause. “Absolutely.”

Davina took the phone back. “I should be home by seven, latest. See you later.”

Faculty got a discount at the fitness and rec center, so my parents kept our membership active, though only my dad used it regularly. He said doing mindless reps helped him think through thorny problems. We bypassed the classes and went directly to the equipment, where we spent forty-five minutes sweating. Afterward, I felt good, loose and limber.

“Still up for choreographing a routine?” Davina asked.

“Absolutely.” That might be an overstatement, but I did promise.

After her shower, my mom watched us with an expression of bemusement. “Are you two in a talent competition?”

I laughed. “In my case, more like un-talent.”

“You’re not … horrible,” she said, probably trying to be supportive. “You just need practice. Davina has obviously put more time into … whatever you’re doing.”

“It’s for cheer tryouts,” Davina answered.

My mom froze, as if I had confessed to a secret meth addiction. “Is this true, Edith?”

“I’m not really trying to make the squad. I’m just going to support Davina.”

“Ah.” Apparently she could get behind feminine camaraderie. Mom sat down on a mat nearby and half watched us practice for another hour while tapping on her tablet.

By the end of that time, I was no better, but Davina seemed to have her routine down. We didn’t have any clothes to change into anyway, so I said, “We can go now if you want. Thai takeout for dinner?”

Mom nodded. “Pad thai sounds good.”

“I wish I could stay, but my folks are expecting me.” Shrugging, Davina made a what-can-you-do face.

Outside, I gave her a hug. “See you at school.”

“Do you want us to walk you to the station?” Mom asked.

Davina grinned. “I’ve been on the T by myself before, but thanks anyway.”

Since it was getting dark, my mom insisted. Davina seemed torn between appreciation and annoyance. At the subway steps, she merged into the throng of college students with a cheery wave. I talked my mom into a haircut on the way home and then I dragged her into a store that sold mineral makeup. I knew she wouldn’t stick to a complicated beauty regimen, but dusts and powders wouldn’t take long. All told, by the time we picked up the Thai food, it was pretty late, close to eight before we got home. It was also the most fun I could remember having with my mom in years.

“We have to do that again soon,” she said. “Saturday afternoon?”

“Definitely. I’ll show you how to use the stuff we bought, if you want.”

She hugged me again, this time without asking. “You probably think I’m odd for not knowing any of this, but … I remember once, when I was eleven, my mother got me only beauty products for Christmas. She got me a curling iron, hair spray, fancy brushes, hot rollers, eye shadow. When I opened all my packages, I pretended to be thankful, then I went to my room and cried. I thought she was saying that I wasn’t good enough or pretty enough—that it wasn’t enough for me to be smart.”

Wow. I never knew that. “So you turned your back on all girlie stuff. I get it.”

“But … it’s fun with you.”

“I don’t let it rule my life or anything, but I like feeling pretty.”

“So do I,” Mom admitted quietly. “But I never thought I was, so no point in trying.”

“You should never give up,” I said, conscious of the irony of me saying that. But I had come to believe it.

“So when you came home this summer, I was taken aback. It felt like you were trying to tell me something. Then I realized I was transferring old hurts. If I’d known you were interested in a makeover, maybe we could’ve worked on it together. I just never wanted to make you feel like my mom did me. I always wanted you to feel that however you are, it’s okay with me.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I was almost crying, unable to see for the stinging in my eyes.