“You don’t have to thank me,” she says. “Just prove me right this summer.”

I nod feverishly. “I so will.”

She motions to the envelope. “And get a jump on that paperwork. Parental signatures and everything.”

I gulp.

“She’ll get it all back ASAP,” promises Callie.

I’d almost forgotten she was there.

I thank Iris once more and ask if it’s okay to hug her, before squeezing her to death.

As we’re walking back to the car, our arms linked, I turn to Callie. “I have to get them to say yes.”

“You will,” she assures me. But even Callie doesn’t sound so sure.

I know my dad would have probably preferred if I’d stayed the night in Austin instead of driving right back, but I’ve got too much adrenaline to even think about sleeping. And with my parents’ signature on this form looming, I’m feeling antsy about just getting back home.

Callie and I stop to eat on South Congress at a place called Home Slice Pizza. It’s the first time I’ve ever parallel parked the minivan on a busy street, and that definitely inflates my ego a bit. Before heading out of town, we stop at Amy’s Ice Cream, where we each get a scoop of sweet cream, mine mixed with Oreos and Callie’s mixed with strawberries.

When we get back to town, I drop Callie off first.

“Your mom is going to be so upset,” I tell her.

“It was worth it,” she says. “Besides, you’re, like, her favorite person, so she might just support the cause.”

I don’t know how to say thank you. I keep trying to think of the perfect way. Putting the car in park, I turn to her. “I love you, Callie, and I’m so glad you’re my friend.” I shake my head in disbelief, remembering her scratching on my window just last night. “I would’ve never done this without you. I spend a lot of time telling myself to be brave, but you make me brave.”

She laughs, and it almost comes out like a sob. “You jerk. You’re making me cry. I love you, too, Millie. How ridiculous is it that we’ve lived in this town together for so long and it took us all this time to become friends?” She uses her knuckle to wipe away a tear. “You make me brave, too. You make me brave enough to be the person I am and not the one I think I’m supposed to be.”

I pull her to me for a hug before she heads inside.

Since I’ve been in contact with my dad every hour, like I’d promised, my parents knew I would be arriving soon. They’re waiting for me at the kitchen table when I get home.

“Hi,” I say before dropping the welcome packet on the table in the hopes that it will speak for me.

My dad motions for me to sit down, and my mother looks like she hasn’t showered, slept, or even done her hair since I left. She sits with her arms crossed, but she doesn’t look angry like she did when the garage door closed early this morning. More confused than anything else.

“They let me in.” The words burst out of me like an impossible-to-keep secret.

“Well . . . wow,” my dad says, and it comes out like a gasp. “They’re better off for it.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I look to my mom. “But I can’t do it without y’all. I need your permission, of course. And then we’d have to see if we could get our deposit back from Daisy Ranch. And this counts for college credit, too. Just so you know.”

My dad takes the envelope and looks over the papers briefly, including the tuition payment plan. “This looks manageable,” he says. “Certainly not as pricey as Daisy Ranch.” He chuckles and nudges my mom to try to get her in on the joke, but she’s nonresponsive.

I appreciate my dad’s willingness. So much. But he’s not the only one I want to hear from. “Mom?” I ask. “What do you think?”

She looks me in the face for the first time since I walked in. “I think you’re a different person than the girl I raised.” Her voice is flat.

That knocks the wind out of me. I feel it right down to the bone.

She drags her hands down her un-made-up face. “But maybe that’s not such a horrible thing.” My dad squeezes her shoulder before she continues, “I don’t know what to make of everything that you said today and, honestly, things you said even weeks ago, but if this is what you truly want . . .” She pauses. “I support you, Millie.”

I stand up and rush to the other side of the table to hug her. I squeeze her tight, and after a moment she reciprocates. Because I’m always getting ahead of myself, it’s hard for me not to think of a future when me and Mom are out doing things like shopping and she’s having a great time, not huffing over the size of her jeans or the way her stomach pooches. Maybe it’s a long way off, or maybe she’ll never quite get there, but the fact that she’s agreed to support me is all that I’ve ever wanted.

I take a few steps back. There’s one last thing I have to say. “And y’all should know: I have a boyfriend. His name is Malik, and he’s nonnegotiable.”

Mom eyes me suspiciously. I might be pushing my luck. “Well, I don’t know about that. There are some serious ground rules to consider.”

“How about we start with inviting him over for dinner and go from there?” my dad says, and then turns to my mom. “What do you think?”

“Well, I guess we better officially meet this mystery man.”

I shriek with excitement before heading back to my room to message Malik. We have so much to squeeze into our last few weeks together before I leave. And of course I have a going-away party to plan!

I crash-land on my bed, watching as the ceiling fan spins on low. For the longest time, I thought the power of positive thinking would get me by. And it helps, that’s for dang sure. But it takes more than thinking and hoping and wishing and praying. You need a whole lot of doing.

Callie

Thirty-Eight

A week into June and two days into summer vacation, Mama pulls up in front of city hall and parks in a two-hour parking spot.

I reach for the door handle. “I thought you were just dropping me off.”

She chuckles. “If my baby’s gonna address the school board, I’m gonna be there to watch.”

She checks her lipstick in the rearview mirror and holds it out for me. “You want some?”

“Sure.” I don’t know if lipstick will do much to make these old farts listen to me, but I’ll try anything at this point. I pull my mirror down and carefully apply.

Mama tussles her hair to add volume and shuts the car off. “Showtime.”

When Millie dropped me off after our truly epic road trip, Mama was doing the dishes before bed. She pulled a plate of food from the fridge labeled CALLIE and sat with me as I ate. Finally, as I was finishing up, she asked me where I’d gone and why. When I explained, she sat there for a long moment and finally said, “Two weeks grounded.”

And that was it. That was the cost of doing business.

I decided to take a page out of Millie’s book and let my clothes do some of the talking, which is why I’m wearing my white Shamrock uniform with matching white boots. I ditched the hat, though, because some heads were made for hats, but mine was not, so I opted to just wear the bun I’d normally don beneath the hat.

But I needed more than clothes. I needed facts. For those, I went to someone who I still can’t believe texted me back.

ME: I know you probably never expected to see me pop up in your phone again, but I need your help. First, I need to say that I’m sorry. I should never have shared everyone’s secrets like I did. I was mad and I felt betrayed, but that wasn’t right.

She left me hanging for a good long time before texting me back.

MELISSA: Why should I even consider helping you?

ME: It’s for the Shamrocks. I swear.

MELISSA: Keep talking.

For the rest of our interactions, Melissa was all business. She didn’t even acknowledge my apology, but she did help me gather the facts and research I needed.

Inside the town hall meeting room, sitting in the middle row, I find Millie, Amanda, Hannah, Ellen, and Willowdean. “What are you guys doing here?” I ask.

“Couldn’t let you embarrass yourself alone,” says Willowdean.