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Tara and I planned to start job-hunting during spring break.

“Did you girls want to shop by yourselves for a bit?” Whitney turned around as Tara and I strolled through the mall with our arms linked. She reached into her purse and pulled out a wad of bills, handing each of us a handful of twenties. “I can meet you at the food court in an hour.”

“What? Oh, my God, this is awesome!” Tara’s eyes bulged at the offering. “I had my eye on some makeup a few stores back.”

My heart soared with gratitude, but rational thought pumped the brakes. The money trembled in my hand. “This is too much,” I told her. “You’ve done enough for me already. I can’t accept this.”

Whitney pressed a hand to my upper arm and squeezed. “You deserve it, Halley,” she said with a flash of white teeth. “Enjoy.”

I shook my head, handing the money back to her. “No. I don’t deserve it. I’ll never be able to repay you for everything you’ve done for me. I eat your food, use your utilities. You’ve given me a safe roof over my head and a warm bed to sleep in. I don’t need anything else.”

Tara fidgeted beside me, eyes aimed at the shiny floor.

A crestfallen look coasted across her mother’s face as she stared at me, ignoring my extended hand clamped around the money. “Halley…you can’t think like that. I want to help. I’m happy to help. You deserve to be a regular teenager, to go shopping with your best friend at the mall. You do a lot for us, too.”

“Not nearly enough.”

“More than enough. You cook, you clean, you take care of Ladybug,” she countered gently. “More importantly, you bring warmth to our household. Laughter and light. And that’s something money can’t buy.”

My eyes glazed over as a melty feeling trickled through my veins like honey syrup. I wasn’t used to feeling worthy or appreciated; I was used to feeling like the opposite. A burden, a nuisance, a strain.

I was a shadow, not a light.

But as Whitney smiled with affection and Tara linked our fingers together with tenderness, those intrusive thoughts dissolved and all I felt was loved.

“Okay.” I dropped my arm at my side. “Thank you.”

Nodding through her smile, she whirled back around with a wave. “See you girls soon. Don’t forget—one hour.”

“Got it!” Tara grabbed my hand and yanked me back toward the beauty store. “Okay. There’s a bonfire next weekend to celebrate the kickoff of spring. I need you.”

My nose scrunched up. “Need me for what?”

“You know…” Feet still in motion, she waved a hand over me from head to toe. “You’ve got that thing.”

“That thing,” I echoed, still confused.

“Yes, that thing. That thing that makes guys’ heads turn, that makes you look a thousand times older and wiser than me.”

“I was forced to grow up fast, Tara. That thing is made up of nothing good.”

She sighed. “It’s more than that. The way you carry yourself, your ‘I-don’t-give-a-shit’ attitude.”

“I do give a shit. I give an infinite amount of shits.”

“For the people you care about, sure. But in the hallways at school, or at a party, or a day out at the beach? Zero shits.”

Sighing, I glanced around at the abundance of shoppers and colorful store windows. A group of guys passed us with a whistle, one of them checking us out.

Tara beamed.

I scowled.

The oldest guy with reddish hair puckered his lips at me and made a kissing noise, rattling off a crass comment about the way my ass looked in my jeans.

“See?” Tara glowered after they’d whizzed by, sounding bummed out that she hadn’t been on the receiving end of sexual harassment. “I mean, that one guy was way too old to be looking at you like that, but still.”

“Maybe I prefer older guys.”

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