Perfect Tunes - Emily Gould Page 0,62
high ground, she thought. It was crazy that she wasn’t allowed to go out, it was a Friday, she’d done her chores and homework, she would check in at whatever intervals her mom wanted, literally all of her friends were going to this show. She wasn’t a little kid, she was fourteen years old. She had not mentioned that Tom would be there, of course. There was no reason to mention Tom to her mother.
In addition to anger, Marie also felt crushing guilt and the barest tip of a giant iceberg of sadness that was always lurking just below the surface. But the anger was much easier to feel, so she felt it first, and more, and then let it take over. The sadness about having hurt her mom—physically, this time, and not just emotionally, like always—was too big to touch. Her mind couldn’t go there.
“Seriously, Mom, come on. Say something. Are you okay?”
Laura sighed heavily, then reached down and picked up Marie’s phone. “No, not really. That hurt, Marie.” She handed her back the phone with what seemed like effortful stoicism. Marie felt a hard something in her chest, an achy coldness.
“I just don’t understand why I’m not allowed to go do something fun and harmless! I didn’t mean to throw the phone. Honestly, I was not trying to hurt you.”
Laura was still rubbing her cheek. It was shiny and red, probably going to bruise. “I know you weren’t trying to, but you did. And ‘harmless’ is in the eye of the beholder.”
Marie clutched her phone. “It’s an all-ages show! I’m going to come home and go to bed at a reasonable hour. I get that you’re concerned, but like … you need to trust me. I am way, way more mature than you think. I’m the most mature person I know.”
Laura stopped looking like she was about to cry and started to laugh. “Okay, that doesn’t make me feel better.”
Marie saw the flaw in what she’d said and laughed, too, breaking the horrible tension. But then they stopped laughing and looked at each other for a long moment.
“Look, I’ll check in every half hour,” Marie finally ventured. “I will not be out past ten.”
Laura’s face clouded again. “Jesus, Marie, I said no! Why are you testing me like this?”
“I’m not testing you! I’m telling you, I’m going!”
They were right back in phone-throwing territory.
“You just threw something at me, and I’m supposed to reward you?”
“I said I was sorry!”
“Actually, you didn’t!”
“Well, I am! I am really sorry. I feel really bad that I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. But having me spend the night sulking in my room won’t change what happened.”
She walked over to the pegs near the front door that held a dangling, untidy mess of the family’s coats and started pawing through, looking for the lightweight leather jacket of Laura’s that she had adopted as her own as soon as it fit her.
Laura’s eyes brightened dangerously. “You know what? I have a great idea. I’ll come with you.”
Marie stopped looking through the coats and turned to stare at her mother with agonized fear in her eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
Laura feigned ignorance. “Sure, why not! I was just going to sit around watching TV. Maybe Kayla wants to come, too, we should ask her.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Doing what? It’ll be fun! It’s been forever since we did something together as a family.”
Kayla, perhaps hearing her name, came to the end of the hallway and squinted through her glasses at the scene in the living room, looking from Laura to Marie and trying to figure out who, if anyone, to throw her loyalty behind. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m sixty pages from the end of the fifth Darkwall Chronicles book. You guys have fun, though,” she said absently, then headed back to the girls’ bedroom.
Outside, an ambulance went by, which happened a dozen times a day, but this time they both noticed it. Probably without consciously meaning to, Laura touched her injured cheek.
“I’m leaving, and you can’t stop me. I’ll call you later. Bye,” Marie said, and walked out the door.
Laura opened the door and ran after her a few paces, then stopped at the top of the stairs. “Are you going to be warm enough in that coat?” she called after her, but Marie was already at the bottom of the stairwell, almost out the door.
* * *
A couple of years earlier, a few months before Marie turned twelve, she had woken up one