by E. J. Mara
And with that, it was decided.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
That night, I didn’t sleep. Instead, Jonathan and I texted each other back and forth until 3 AM. Apparently, that’s when he fell asleep. But I didn’t. I just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and reviewing the plan Jonathan and I had semi-constructed.
Three hours later, when my alarm went off I’d concocted a secondary mission. An important one that involved an incredibly handsome band student.
Before the first hour bell, I went to the cafeteria and scanned the large room for Bao Tran.
It didn’t take long for me to spot him, sitting alone at his usual table. He was munching on a breakfast of pancake-on-a -stick and reading a paperback version of what appeared to be a Star Wars novel.
I took a deep breath and approached his table.
As I watched him look up and surprise registered in his eyes, I realized I wasn’t the least bit nervous. Instead, I felt empowered.
Maybe this was the slightly tarnished silver lining that came with having a covert meeting with FBI agents about how to take down your own mother, who, by the way, happened to be a criminal mastermind.
And maybe I knew that no matter the outcome of this conversation, I was doing the right thing. Even if this ended with Bao hating me even more and the entire school laughing at me again. At least I would have attempted to right my wrong.
“Hey, Bao,” I said, sliding into the seat across from him.
“Libby,” he said, gulping as he set his Star Wars book down. He seemed nervous.
“I want to apologize,” I said, looking him in the eye. “I sincerely wasn’t trying to prank you. That said, the truth is Kimberly didn’t ask me to set her up with you, I did that all on my own. And I shouldn’t have. It was wrong of me to go behind my friend’s back and try to steer the direction of her life as if were my own. I was presumptuous.”
Bao’s eyes softened and he said, “It’s okay. And I’m sorry for overreacting. Kimberly texted me yesterday. She told me it wasn’t a prank. I’m sorry I said all of that to you.”
“It’s fine,” I offered him a smile. “Even though I wasn’t trying to prank you, I still kind of deserved it. I’ve been a bad friend lately… actually, for a while. You told me to ‘take my lies’ somewhere else and that’s when it hit me that even though I hadn’t been trying to prank you, I had been lying about some other things in my life. And I shouldn’t have. So, you actually taught me an important life lesson and I’ll always be grateful to you for that.”
Bao’s cheeks flushed red. “Well, you’re welcome. I guess?”
We both chuckled awkwardly and after a beat of silence, I pointed to his book. “So, you prefer old school books to eBooks?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. eBooks are fine, but sometimes they feel a little impersonal. And in this place,” he looked around at the loud, bustling cafeteria, “the last thing I want is to feel even more alone. Maybe that’s why I prefer to read actual books while I’m on my own in here.”
I nodded, slowly.
That was why, prior to becoming friends with Kimberly, Jonathan, Lindsey, and even Jen every time I’d gone home to a big empty house after school, I used to find whatever snacks I could in the pantry and fridge and go to town. I’d felt alone and food somehow made me feel less lonely.
I still loved food, but lately I hadn’t felt like I needed excessive amounts of it for comfort, the way I used to. Now, I had my friends.
“Well, would you mind if I sat with you in here sometimes?” I asked. “And during lunch, maybe sometimes you and your friends could sit with me and my friends? That way, we’d all be less alone.”
Bao blushed a second time, but he smiled. “Thanks, Libby. We’ll see.”
I nodded, understanding at once. He had his pride. This wasn’t some cheesy teen movie about a nerd who desperately wanted to belong to the popular clique. This was real life. Bao could see that Jen was screwed up and mean, that I was a weirdo with a propensity to lie, that Kimberly was hot as a handful of Jalopeno-flavored Flaming Cheetos on a Hemsworth’s bicep but desperately in need of therapy, that Jonathan struggled with a huge case of indecisiveness, and that Lindsey was… well, actually Lindsey was fairly normal. But, the point was that Bao saw us for what we were and knew he didn’t need us.
Also, like I said, he had his pride.
This made me like him even more.
Grinning, I stood and said, “I have to go fix another lie, so guess I’ll catch you later, Bao.”
He smiled. “Okay. I hope it, um, get’s …fixed?”
“Me too,” I said with a wave.
Leaving the cafeteria, I pulled out my phone and texted my mother.
Hey, I feel really sick. I think I might be coming down with something. I’m going to the school nurse’s office. Can you pick me up?
As I slid my phone into my pocket, my nerves returned.
That, was Step One.
The mission to saving my mother from herself had officially begun.
***
True to my word, I hung out in the School Nurse’s office where I didn’t have to pretend too hard that my head was pounding because I actually was experiencing a stress headache. And midway through first hour, Mom came to pick me up.
As we pulled out of Sunnyville High’s parking lot, I glanced at my mother.
Her hands were on the steering wheel, at 10 and 2, the old-fashioned way of driving. She wore a Saint’s baseball cap, a purple sleeveless top and matching yoga pants. She’d been in the middle of a hot yoga class when she’d gotten my call. In spite of the fact that she wore no makeup and was dressed uncharacteristically rough, she seemed to be glowing. She had a slight smile on her lips and a dreamy look in her eyes as she drove along, softly humming with the classical music coming from the radio.
I’d never seen her this happy, except during the moments we’d recently shared with Van.
I gulped, sadness overtaking me.
My mom was finally happy, and I was going to ruin everything.
But if I didn’t, people would die. Because she would kill them.
My mom was a murderer, and I had to stop her. Even if I loved her.
I faced forward and closed my eyes.
I’m doing this for her own good.
Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes and said, “Mom?”
“Hm?”
“Do you ever get tired of pretending?” I slowly asked, keeping my gaze on the road ahead.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her glance at me. “You mean,” she said. “About our identities?”
I nodded.
“Well,” she paused. “Yes. Honestly, I do. But I know it’s for our own good. I do it for you and for me. That’s what keeps me going.”
For our own good.
That was very close to my reasoning for why I was doing what I was about to do…
“I get tired of it too,” I said. “I don’t like lying to people. It makes me feel like I’m being two-faced, which I hate.”
Mom nodded. “That’s understandable. We just have to be strong, Manda. Life isn’t for the weak. It’s an unfair game of chess, and you have to be smarter and stronger than your opponents to succeed. And in our case, our opponents are the entire system. So, don’t give in to your feelings.”
“How?”
“Pretend like they don’t exist,” Mom said. “And just do whatever it takes to survive.”
I turned to her, sadness and anger in the pit of my gut. “Is that what you do?” I asked, hoping I sounded less upset than I felt. “You make yourself stop feeling, so you can do whatever it takes to survive?”
She tilted her head thoughtfully, but her answer was quick, “Yes, it is.”
I turned away from her, hurt and disgusted.
“Well, I’m not like you,” I said, which elicited a sharp glance from Mom. “I need to be honest with myself and with the people in my life. That’s why I want to show you something. To be honest with you.”
“Don’t worry, I just need to show you something. It’s about what happened during that sleepover at Jen’s.” I looked at Mom and her eyes were wide.
“What happened?” she asked in a low voice.
“It’s nothing terrible,” I took a deep breath and lied, “I just …well, I have to show you. Okay? So, can you drive to Jen’s house?”
“Manda, be direct,” Mom shouted. “What did you do?”
“Relax, Mom,” I said, looking her in the eye. “I didn’t do anything. I just want you to know everything about my life. And I don’t have to share this with you, but I want to. So, we can be close.”
“You’re not making any sense!”
“Yes, I am, if you’d just listen,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “Doesn’t it bother you that we’re not close?”
“What does this have to do with anything?” Mom had a frantic look in her eyes as she glared at me before returning her attention to the road.
“Aren’t we supposed to be close? Like a team? Like family?” I continued. “That’s what I want, but you never spend time with me. I want to change that, starting now. So, I want to show you something most teenage girls wouldn’t show their own mother!”
At this point, Mom was breathing hard and seemed uncharacteristically unsure of herself as she said, “Manda, of course I want to be close. This is just… weird.”
“Yeah, well we’re weird,” I said. “Can you please just come with me to Jen’s trailer? You remember where she lives?”
Scowling, Mom returned her attention to the road and made a sharp U-turn, I held onto the door as we swung around and began heading in the opposite direction of our home.
“Of course I remember where that dump is,” Mom murmured. “And I hope you’re not trying to tell me you hooked up with some trailer trash boy. Is that what you’re saying, Manda?”
“No,” I rolled my eyes. “I’m saying going to this trailer was one of the weirdest things I’ve ever experienced and I just want to share that moment with you.”
She shook her head and cursed under her breath. My heart pounded as we drove the rest of the way in silence.
When we finally pulled up to Jen’s dilapidated trailer Mom made a face and said, “This place is disgusting. I work hard for our beautiful home and you choose to spend time in places like this.”
“I’m trying to have a moment with you,” I said, opening my door. “And you’re not letting me.”
She glanced at me and started to say something, but I was already slamming my car door shut.
I marched to the trailer’s door, knowing Mom would follow me.
But what I didn’t know was if this plan was going to work. Suddenly doubting myself, I worried that I wouldn’t be able to get Mom to confess.
“Manda, I’m resistant because I don’t understand why we’re here,” Mom hissed from behind me.
I turned to look at her and thought quickly. Forcing a scowl and an angry look in my eyes, I said, “We’re here because we don’t have a normal mother-daughter relationship and I stupidly thought that sharing one of the funniest yet strangest moments of my life with you, might make us a little bit closer. A little bit more normal! But maybe I shouldn’t have even tried.”
Mom blinked back at me, confusion in her eyes. She started to reply, when the trailer’s front door swung open and Jen’s mother, Jasmine Struthers, smiled down at us.
Thankfully, she was wearing clothes today. Her long black hair flowed past her shoulders and back, falling all the way down to her waist. And her blue eyes sparkled as she grinned at us and said, “Hi, Lindsey.”
“Nope,” I said, suppressing a grin. “That’s the other one. I’m Libby.”
“Oh,” Jasmine chuckled and shook her head. “Please excuse my slight prejudice, it isn’t intentional.”
“I know,” I nodded. “I’m just proud of you for remembering the name of any of Jen’s friends.”
Jasmine laughed and opened the door wider as she took a step back, “Yes, you seem to have a feel for the chaotic universe that is my mind. Well, welcome and please come in. I’ve just put on some tea, if you’d like a cup.” As I stepped inside and Mom followed, Jasmine forced Mom to a standstill by putting one of her hands on Mom’s left shoulder, gently stopping her.
Mom arched an eyebrow at her and then looked at the hand she’d put on her shoulder.
I said a silent prayer, asking God to stop my mom from thinking like a murderer for at least the next few minutes.
“You’re so beautiful,” Jasmine said in a hushed voice, reverence in her tone as she stared cross-eyed, into my mother’s eyes. “But you’re not happy, are you?”
Before mom could respond, I said, “She’s wondering why her daughter brought her here. And I just wanted her to meet you because you’re so… ” Pausing, I gave Mom a meaningful look and slowly said, “Cool and such.”
Jasmine nodded as if this wasn’t weird at all and stepped back, finally removing her hand from Mom’s shoulder. “Then, come in, please. Let me just make myself a quick …” Jasmine floated off to the kitchen, humming and leaving her sentence unfinished.
I glanced at my mother. She was looking around the weed-filled trailer, sheer horror on her face.
“Manda, is this your way of telling me you-”
“Nope,” I quickly said, before lowering my voice and whispering, “I didn’t smoke anything. But stepping into this trailer and talking to Ms. Jasmine was one of the funniest moments of my entire life. Just have a conversation with her and you’ll see what I mean. It’s hilarious.”
I held my breath while Mom’s analytical eyes bore into mine, slightly puzzled as she scowled.
Finally, she said, “Do you really feel like we…” a look of uncertainty in her eyes, she sighed and crossed her arms. “Like we’re disconnected?”
“I do,” I quietly replied.
She nodded, not looking me in the eye as she said, “Well, then I will… try to enjoy this moment with you.”
Relieved, I exhaled.
This was a stupid plan. Like, incredibly stupid. But somehow, it seemed to be working.
At least, so far.
“But, Manda,” Mom said lowering her voice. “Let’s get something straight: if this insane hippie offers you weed, we’re leaving. There’s nothing funny about a healthy teenager smoking marijuana. It’s illegal.” Mom pointed to the potted plants in every nook and cranny of the small trailer.
“Right. Illegal. Got it.” I nearly snorted.
I couldn’t help but notice the irony in this situation: my serial killer mother was appalled by the ‘illegal’ actions of a peaceful hippie who sold weed.
It was ironic, but not exactly funny.
Probably because nothing’s funny when you’re doing everything you can to get your mother to confess to her crimes via a hella stupid plan that probably won’t work.
We took three steps forward and found ourselves in the trailer’s kitchen where Mom crossed her arms and stood ramrod straight as she glared at Jasmine, who was humming and dumping a can of Spam into a small bowl.
I leaned against the counter and wondered what to say to move the conversation in the right direction. Last night, I’d thought of a thousand things, but now that the moment had arrived, my mind was blank.
“Look at how rude I am,” Jasmine’s cheerful voice interrupted my panicked thoughts. “I’m so into making my own breakfast casserole that I haven’t even offered you any. Would y’all like some breakfast too?”
“No, thank you,” my mother and I said in unison.
Mom cleared her throat and took a slight step forward as she said, “So, my daughter had a nice time during Jen’s sleepover.”
“There was a sleepover?” Jasmine paused and frowned, her gaze going upwards as she thought. “Was it last year?”
“Last
week,” my mother slowly replied.
“Yeah, I told Mom how funny and cool you are and I thought the two of you would really hit it off,” I said, realizing how lame my excuse for bringing mom to Jasmine’s trailer suddenly sounded.
Jasmine laughed. “By the winds of Aeolus, I’m right flattered.”
Mom frowned, but said, “Well, we both do have teenage daughters. So… I suppose that’s um, that’s something we … have in common.”
Jasmine glanced at Mom and smiled. “You have such a nice speaking voice. Like a radio personality.”
Mom gave her a slow blink before saying, “Thank you,” in dry tone.
This was not going well.
“And,” Jasmine said with a sigh as she turned to the refrigerator and pulled out an egg and a half-full can of nacho cheese. “As a fellow mother, I have to say, raising a girl is hard. Harder than a boy. I would think. What do you think?”
Despite the seriousness of our situation, I eyed the egg and nacho cheese, intrigued yet horrified by what I suspected Jasmine was on the verge of doing.
Mom shifted on her feet and said, “I have to agree, mother daughter relationships are complicated.”
“So fraught with emotions that neither mother nor daughter fully understand. Right?” Jasmine said with a shake of her head.
“Yes,” Mom nodded and after a beat, she quietly said, “daughters want independence, but they forget that their mothers have already been through the process of growing up. We know it’s a minefield, but when we try to give them a map of the terrain, to show them where hidden landmines are, they don’t listen to us.”
I bit down on my bottom lip to stop myself from saying something inappropriate.
The whole point of this was to get Mom talking, which meant I had to let her say whatever she wanted- even if it was impossibly hypocritical and annoying.
“You’re so right. Teenage girls take their mothers for granted,” Jasmine said as she poured the nacho cheese over the Spam. “I certainly did. I didn’t listen to a word my mom said, and honestly, that’s how I ended up pregnant at thirteen. I was a rebellious little rose.” She laughed and shook her head as she grabbed the egg and then cracked it over the bowl of spam and nacho cheese. “Were you a rebel too, Candice? I’m picking up on a rebellious vibe from you.”
