We could do more. We could get in the backseat of his Bronco or we could get back to the lake and roll around on his letter jacket. And all that would be fine. It would be fun even. Because there’s nothing like tumbling around in the dark with someone you like.

But I feel like I’m stepping out of my house for the first time after a colossal storm. I just want to take my time. Survey my new reality. Most of all, though, I want to savor it. I want to go to bed tonight and dream about the way a simple kiss on the cheek made everything tingle all the way down to my toes.

Millie

Twenty-Nine

Two weeks have passed since my epic date with Malik, and I take another turn hosting a slumber party. I can tell my parents are a little perplexed by my friendship with Callie. I hear my mother referring to her as a criminal in hushed tones to my dad the next morning, but no one says a word to me. Willowdean promises to host once she cleans her room (though she says she can’t make any promises when that will be), and Hannah swears to have us over in a few weeks, once her mom gives away the litter of kittens their cat just gave birth to. I argue that this is actually the best time for us all to come over, when there are kittens to cuddle, but Hannah’s mom thinks otherwise.

So that means this week is Callie’s turn to host, and not to be a nerd or anything, but I’m weirdly excited for Callie’s mom to see that she’s made friends.

I take my time getting ready for work on Saturday morning. I slept in a bit and I wish I could’ve slept longer, but I’m still buzzing from last night, which was the third Friday in a row I spent hanging out with Malik while he worked at the Lone Star 4.

Last night when he pulled up in front of my house to drop me off, he said, “I know you’re going to be gone for most of the summer and that I’m going to be off visiting family, too, but I just want you to know that I don’t want us to take a break.”

“Well,” I said, “what exactly would we be taking a break from?”

He coughed into his fist and squirmed in his seat a bit. “From us.”

“And what are we?” I asked.

He looked to me, his eyes questioning. “In a relationship?”

“Good,” I said, letting out a squeal.

As I relive the interaction over and over in my head while I finish off my cereal, I barely even notice my mom coming in from the grocery store.

I pop up from my seat. “Let me help you.”

“Oh, I’ve got it all,” she says, “and you can sit your behind right back down, young lady.”

“Um, okay. Is everything all right?”

Mom puts her low-fat fruit Popsicles in the freezer and her almond milk in the fridge before saying, “No, ma’am, everything is not okay.”

“Did I do something wrong?” I’m starting to work myself into a panic. She found out about broadcast journalism camp. I don’t know how, but she did.

She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the kitchen counter. “You tell me, missy. Where have you been the last three Friday nights?”

Oh crap. “At Amanda’s house,” I lie. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should’ve just told her the truth. If she’s asking, she definitely knows something is up. “Studying with Malik. You know that.”

“Really?” she asks. “You want to think real hard about that for a minute?”

I don’t say anything. My mom doesn’t care that I have a social life, but she would definitely care that I’m going out on dates by myself with a boy. Literally no one else’s parents care about this, but I’m pretty sure my parents expect me to abstain from dating until I’m thirty.

“Well,” she says, her voice as sharp as a razor, “I ran into Amanda’s father, and I thanked him for hosting you for the last three Friday nights. And do you want to know what he said?”

I shake my head, because no, I actually don’t want to know.

“He said you haven’t been over a single Friday night in the last month, Millicent. So not only is my daughter—my own flesh and blood who I provide for and care for—lying to my face, but I had to humiliate myself and find out from another parent.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Well, honey, sorry just doesn’t cut it. You’re gonna have to tell me where in Hades you’ve been for the last three weeks.”

I push my cereal out of the way and stand up. “I have been with Malik. That part is true. But Amanda wasn’t there and we weren’t studying.”

“So what in the H have you been doing?”

I smile. I can’t think of the last Friday nights without smiling. “I like him, Mom. A lot. We like each other.”

She gasps. “Are you telling me that you’re dating a boy right under my nose? Without even going to the trouble of asking your father and me or even introducing us to him? And what type of gentlemen courts a girl without meeting her parents first?”

“Mom.” My voice drops an octave. “You met Dad in a parking lot and went on plenty of dates before introducing him to your family.”

“I was an adult,” she says.

“Barely!” I take a deep breath. “I want you to get to know him,” I say. “He’s smart and passionate and a good listener, but I was scared you’d say no. And I like him too much.”

Her whole face hardens. “Well, I say no. You lied to me. You went behind my back. Lord knows what else you’re fibbing about.”

Something occurs to me, and it makes me cringe. “Mom, is this because Malik isn’t white?”

She gasps. “Of course not.”

I study her for a long while. Even if the color of Malik’s skin does have something to do with this, she would never say so. And I know for a fact that me dating anyone at all would send my mother into a tailspin, but I refuse to leave a prejudice like that unspoken, even if it’s unintentional.

I inhale deeply. Well, I might as well get this over with. “It’s not exactly a fib, but I guess it’s time you know that I’m not going back to Daisy Ranch,” I say.

“What?” Now that shocks her. A boy wasn’t so surprising, but this nearly bowls her over. She braces herself on the counter. “Where is this coming from? Is this you trying to rebel? I knew this would happen. I told your father. We had it too easy with you. Is this your uncle’s doing? Is this his influence on you? No. It’s this boy, isn’t it?”

I shake my head. “Mom, no. Listen. Hear me out.”

“This is that Willowdean, isn’t it? Baby, you love Daisy Ranch. What about all your friends there?”

Now I’m mad. I just want two stinking seconds to tell my side of the story, to be heard for once. “I’m not going back. I am thankful to both y’all, you and Dad, for always trying to do what you thought was best for me. But this summer I’ve applied for broadcast journalism camp at the University of Texas in Austin. It’s a six-week program. I wrote an essay. I paid for the application fee myself and I even filmed an audition tape.”

She slumps into a chair at the kitchen table, shaking her head. “Lose the weight first. That’s what we always said.”

I sit down across from her. “Mom, I’ve been waiting to lose the weight for as long as I can remember.”

“Baby, I want you to go to journalism camp or wherever your heart desires, but I just know you’ll enjoy it so much more if you can just shed the pounds first. There’s a thin girl in you just waiting to get out.”

I shake my head. “No. No.” My voice is soft but firm. “There’s no skinny girl trapped inside of me, Mom. Just like there’s not one in you. This . . .” I grip my thighs and my thick arms. “This is me. And I’m done waiting to be someone else. I know what I want to do with my life. Isn’t that incredible? Some people wait their whole lives, figuring out who or what they want to be. But I know.”

“You lost six pounds last year,” she says. “Maybe this summer it’ll be twenty. And you know that keeping it up at home is the hardest part, but it’s worth it.”

My eyes burn, but I swallow back the tears. Now isn’t the time for crying. “I’m okay with this body no matter what package it comes in. I just wish you would be, too.”