Her eyes searched my face, and she gave me a weak smile. “I’m proud of you.”
That wasn’t what I expected to hear. “Why?”
“Because you knew what Naomi did was wrong and you had the guts to tell her that. You stuck by her and tried to help, even when you were scared.”
“But I just let it happen.”
“Yes, but now you know not to put yourself in that situation again. You can’t stop Naomi from stealing or dating the wrong guy. It’s not your job to be her mom.” She ruffled my hair. “Just like it isn’t your job to be mine.”
“Do you think she’ll stay away from Scott?”
Mom sighed and sat cross-legged on a throw rug. “I hope so. I know with me—I’m a hopeless romantic at heart. The idea of love blinds me. I see qualities that aren’t there because I want them to be there. I want to trust their words because it hurts too much not to. I look at your grandma and I think, How can she live like this? But I also envy her. She’s not afraid to be alone. I think Naomi and I need a little dose of that.”
“You just made sense.”
Mom laughed. “Well, that’s pretty rare, huh? We should celebrate.”
“Are you still going to let me hang out with Naomi?”
She sighed. “I’m not going to lie. I’ll be watching you more closely—asking where you’re going. No more sleepovers at Naomi’s. I want you home by midnight on weekends. And I want to talk to her dad.”
“No! She’ll hate me.”
“She’s going to get herself into a lot of trouble. I can’t sit back and do nothing in good conscience. Her dad needs to know what’s going on.”
“She promised me she would stop.”
“And I have no doubt she means well, Drea. But we can’t count on that. In the meantime, keep making music. Listen to her if she wants to talk. I think Justin will help look out for her too.” She poked my arm. “Grandma likes him, by the way. And he must like you an awful lot to have listened to her go on the other night. Trust me, not many of my boyfriends were so patient with her.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” I turned my attention to another box, digging at the contents. “Does his past bother you?”
“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me a little nervous. But I think it’s great that he’s being honest about it. Does it bother you?”
“No. I like him—I mean, he’s becoming a good friend.”
She smirked. “He’s quite the cutie.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mom, please!” The thought of seeing him later today terrified me. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself again.
I was filming Grandma lining up a row of angel figurines when Naomi showed up. Her big blue eyes appeared in the frame, looking red-rimmed and sleepy. But her lips stretched into a wide smile. She had no idea I’d ratted her out.
“Hey, gorgeous,” she said, batting her eyelashes at the camera. The afternoon light pierced her blond roots, making her hair look thin.
“Hi.” I panned to Grandma. The school camera weighed a ton, and using a tripod was the only way I could keep it steady.
Naomi walked behind me, peering at the little LCD screen. “You’ve got it zoomed in really far. I can practically see the dirt under her nails.” She pressed a button, pushing the image of Grandma farther away. “There ya go.”
I elbowed her arm. “I had it there for a reason, Naomi.”
“Sorry. Damn.” She huffed and sat on the grass. “So I guess you’re mad after all.”
“What do you mean?” I focused on Grandma’s face. She watched the street, hands on her hips. Her eyes widened with each passing car.
“You said it was okay. I mean—he asked me, and we’re just friends. It’s not like it was like that, you know?”
Her words melded together in my head. All I could think about was what she’d do when my mom called her dad.
“Oh, what? You’re going to ignore me now? You should’ve just said something, Drea.”
Grandma turned then, her eyes piercing the frame. She instantly covered her face and spun around. “I told you to turn that off, Drea! You’ll scare the customers away.”
“What customers?”
“I’ll throw it in the street. I’m not kidding,” Grandma said.
“Then you can pay my teacher three thousand dollars to replace it.”
Grandma crinkled her nose and stormed back into the garage, mumbling something about disrespect. “Get me if anyone shows up!” she called.
I clicked the camera off and knelt in front of Naomi. The grass was damp and cold.
“Do you want a blanket?” I asked.
She studied my face for a moment. “You aren’t mad, then?”
“No—I just had a good shot and you messed it up. That’s all.”
“I was trying to help! But I guess I can’t do anything right.”
I looked away from her glare, hugging myself. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Like, yesterday—you bit my head off because you dropped your lunch box. It wasn’t my fault, Drea. I didn’t knock it out of your hands.”
The cutting sound of her voice made me want to get up and run, but I closed my eyes, trying to think of the right words.
“You could at least look at me,” she said.
“I don’t like seeing you so angry at me.”
A few seconds of silence went by. Finally, she exhaled. “Sometimes it just seems like I annoy you. Like you don’t want me around.”
I opened my eyes. She was looking down, running her fingers through the grass. “I do want you around.”
“Okay,” she mumbled. We sat quietly for a minute before a smirk crossed her lips. “Justin told me about his juvie days last night. That’s kinda hot, right?”
“Are you kidding?”
“No way. Justin in handcuffs? Awesome.” She laughed.
Their talk didn’t help as much as I’d hoped.
“Why is that funny?”
She leaned back on the palms of her hands. “Um—because it’s Justin. That image is a little hard to picture.”
“His mom died. Do you think that’s funny and awesome too?”
Her mouth dropped open. “Of course not. But shit happens, people die. It’s not a reason to stop living yourself.”
I pulled up a chunk of grass and let it sift through my fingers. “Whatever.”
“There you go again—acting all pissy.”
My stomach tensed. “I just don’t understand some of the things you say.”
“It’s called having a sense of humor, Drea.”
I counted the loose blades of grass in my hand. “Okay.”
“I should’ve been sixteen in the eighties,” she continued. “I would’ve been the perfect punk chick.”
“Why can’t you be a punk chick now?”
“Because Sid is dead, duh.”
I threw grass at her. “He died in 1979.”
She rolled her eyes. “Semantics. Anyway, Justin had a conniption because I called Green Day old-school punk. So he gave me a CD with the Dead Milkmen, Sex Pistols, the Clash, and a bunch of others on it. Good stuff.”
“Cool.” I looked at her empty driveway across the street. “Is your dad home this weekend?”
“Nope, but his vacation starts next Saturday. He claims he’s taking me car shopping.”
My chest relaxed. At least I had a week to convince Mom not to call. “You never said how your dinner went Thursday.”
“It was a dinner with Dad, not an all-night party. What exactly is there to talk about?”
“You seemed excited, that’s all.”
“What I really want to talk about is you and Justin. He’s so gaga over you.”
I let a smile slip.
“Ooh. You’re blushing. Something’s totally happened—fess up.”
I buried my face in my knees.
“Oh my God. You hooked up with him!”
I put my hand against her mouth. “Shut up. My grandma will hear you.”
She pulled back. “I wasn’t talking that loud. Don’t be so paranoid.”