few times with friends, and the other day he asked me to come to this play he’s in—he does theater too—but his entire family is going to be there, and it seems kind of soon to be meeting the whole family, and at first I thought that seemed weird, but then I wondered if maybe he…
Her texts come in fragments, parts of the story at a time, like she’s giving me a chance to soak in the information, but I’m distracted by the voices outside my window.
I push myself off the floor, leaving my phone behind, and I do my best to be inconspicuous when I peer through the glass.
Vivien looks like she was on her way to our trailer when a conversation stopped her. I think it’s something Maggie said, who’s standing a few feet away. Dexi is beside her, with Vas, Jin, and a few other people too. It’s hard to make out everything they’re saying, but Maggie is waving her hands in the air like she’s refusing to do something, and Dexi seems to be pleading with her.
Vivien looks annoyed, turning like she’s trying to get closer to the trailer, when Maggie’s voice booms through the window.
“If you invite her, then the three of you can go find a different restaurant to eat at. She’s not part of our group, and if you don’t like that, then you don’t have to be in it either.”
I see Vivien roll her eyes, and Dexi drops her shoulders. She says something else—something that seems to irritate Maggie even more—but then they’re all walking away from the trailer toward the parking lot.
They don’t come back.
I know I shouldn’t take it to heart. I’m new—it takes time to make friends when you’re new.
But the rejection feels like a sucker punch to the gut.
I’m wallowing in loneliness and self-pity for at least thirty minutes before I remember I was in the middle of a conversation with Chloe.
I pick up my phone and look at the most recent messages.
Chloe: Are you there?
Chloe: HARLEY.
Chloe: Okay, well I guess you’re busy.
And even though I know I’ve let her down by not replying, I’m relieved I don’t have to pretend to be excited when I feel like a ghost with no friends, haunting a house that nobody wants to live in.
* * *
Another day passes, and there’s another email from Mom.
To: FlightOfTheRedPandagmail
From: Delilah.Milanoteatrodellanotte
Subject: The time you decided to start a business
I remember the flyers you made: Harley’s Pet-Sitting Service. And you drew a different pet on every single one. I think the one with the guinea pig was my favorite.
You were so focused on the details. You were focused on everything, really. Because whenever you’d get an idea in your head, it would take over your world. It was like nothing else mattered except your new business. It never occurred to you that it might fail—all you saw was a new adventure and the world at your fingertips.
And then your dad said he’d walk you around the neighborhood so you could tape flyers to the mailboxes. I told him not to—I’d heard it was illegal to advertise things on mailboxes. I think it gave you a complex, because suddenly you didn’t want to hand out flyers anymore. You were always so serious about rules. I think you got that from me. And that was all it took—I said one thing, and it was like all the lights went out, and your dream died.
I wish I hadn’t said anything. I should’ve just let you put your flyers up. I took the fun out of something when I didn’t mean to. You’ve said I do that a lot, but I never used to understand what you meant until today.
But it’s not on purpose. I don’t mean to. It’s just that sometimes you don’t look at the details. You don’t think about the potential risks. You don’t think about what could go wrong.
I look at the details because I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want anything to go wrong. And because it’s my job to think about these things, when I know you don’t.
I regret telling you about those flyers. But I don’t regret telling you to go to school. I wish you could see the difference.
And despite what you think, I do want you to have fun. I just wish you didn’t have to run so far away from your parents to feel like you could.