Page 52 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

A cool finger reached out and smoothed the wrinkles on my brow. “Stop thinking too much. You don’t have to know what you want to do, and don’t give me that stubborn glare. If you spend too long worried about the future, then you’ll forget to live in the now.”

“I guess.” All my life had been spent preparing for what was next, not examining what was happening right now. Not what was in the news about the issues facing people like me. They didn’t teach us that in school; my father didn’t sit me down and tell me how to fight back—just that I should go along with things and accept defeat.

“You’re really set on not going to law school, then?” she asked, opening the takeout bag from the deli down the street.

I looked back down at the shirt and knew without a doubt. “I don’t wanna be anything likehim,” I said, more to myself than her.

“You have nothing to worry about,” she said, handing me my usual muffuletta. “You’re the complete opposite of your father. Just look at what you’ve done with the QSA.”

Dread filled my stomach, chasing away my appetite. I still hadn’t planned for this weekend. And I knew what Sawyer would say if she found out:You’re acting so reckless.I groaned and set my lunch to the side.

“Everything okay with your membership drive?” she asked through a mouthful.

“It will be,” I muttered. Another messy component of my life to worry about. This weekend had to be huge, bigger and better than before. If only I could ignore all the other noise in my head long enough to figure it out. “After I nail down the details for this weekend for…um, another one. I just haven’t had time to think about it yet.”

She swallowed her bite and studied me. “Why isn’t Sawyer helping you?” she asked.

“Because she’s mad at me for taking charge.” I shot her a sheepish grin. “But someone had to do it.”

“She’s jealous.”

I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head to the side. “Why do you say that?”

“I was once a young woman, ages ago,” she said, wiping grease off her fingers with a napkin, “and it’s not easy to hold your own in a small town.”

“You’re notthatold, Mom,” I pointed out. “You’re like…a millennial.”

“So much has changed since I was your age,” she said with a sigh, “but the struggle is still the same. Having to prove yourself is never easy. Sawyer probably had herself all figured out, and then you stepped into the QSA this year. Started trying to fix things, because that’s who you are. Probably even ran your mouth without considering where she might be coming from.”

“Wow. I thought this was gonna be a pep talk, but you’re totally burning me.”

“What do the youth say? I’m ‘speaking my truth’?” she asked, ruffling my hair. I gave her a pointed look. “Like when you got that black eye or when you painted that donkey or when…Well, the list goes on and on.”

“Ha. Ha.”

I got what she was saying, but she didn’t know the full story. How Sawyer had expected me to defer to her because it had always been like that. No matter how much I’d tried to prove myself, she wouldn’t let me. Why should I care how much she was struggling with her own stuff if she didn’t care to let me explain mine?

“Speaking of this weekend,” Mom added with a note of bashfulness, “I decided to go on the cabin retreat with the book club on Saturday.”

“Really?” I asked, pulling out of my thoughts.

“You were right. I need to do something for myself,” she said, as though to reassure herself. “Get back to my old girlfriends.”

“I’m proud of you, Mom.” I wasn’t the only one reworkingthe past, figuring out which pieces of our old life fit into this new one. “You deserve to have fun.”

“Thank you for that.” She spared me an appreciative smile, and then her eyes narrowed. “I’ll be gone overnight,” she began, pointing a finger at me, “and I can’t stop you from having a boy over, so if you do—”

“Mooooom,” I groaned, throwing my head back on the sofa. “That most definitely won’t be happening. Not after…”After embarrassing myself with the real Mason, even more so with the fake one.

She reached out and patted me on the knee. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out like you wanted with Mason.”

“It’s whatever,” I mumbled, even though it wasn’t. “I’m fine.”

“It’s okay if you aren’t.”

But it wasn’t okay. And I didn’t know how to make it okay. Mason wasn’t the problem to solve; it was the stranger who’d let me think they were him.

Sensing I didn’t want to talk about it, she stood. “Well, I have an appointment due in a few,” she said, heading toward the shop. “If you have more staring contests with Zelda back there, don’t get any wild ideas to party like her while I’m gone this weekend.”

---