Page 36 of Party Favors

“Everly? Why aren’t you awake yet?”

I stifled a groan. It was my mother. I loved her dearly, but she always made me feel like I was falling short—in my personal life, at work, with exercising and eating healthy food—whatever it was that I participated in, my mom thought I could be doing it better.

She was an extremely early riser, preferring to get up before the sun, and thought the rest of the world should do the same.

“It’s the weekend,” I told her with a groan, but she breezed past it.

“Did you go out last night like you’d planned?”

I turned over and put an arm across my eyes. I could hear our neighbors yelling next door and wondered whether Vella would make good on her threats and glue their front door shut.

This was all my fault. Not the next-door argument, but me telling my mother that I couldn’t call her back yesterday because I was going out with Vella. I had given her ammunition.

“Yes, I went out last night.”

“And did you meet someone?”

“I did,” I said, trying not to sigh because I knew exactly where this was going. It was like my mother was starring in a one-woman play calledYou’re a Disappointmentand performed it every night of my life.

I figured it was one of the reasons why we bonded so much over our mutual love for royals. My mom never criticized me when it came to that kind of stuff. When we talked about our favorite princes and princesses, I could just enjoy her as a person without her trying to fix me.

“And?” she prompted.

“He gave me his number.” Along with his actual phone.

“Are you going to see him again?”

Probably when I returned his cell, but other than that, no. “I don’t think I’m his type,” I told her.

She sighed. “If you just made a little more effort with your appearance and tried to be more outgoing, I think that—”

Now it was my turn to sigh loudly. My whole life my mom had been trying to turn me into someone I wasn’t and I’d never understood why. “Don’t worry about it, Mom. Things are well under control here.”

Someday I would meet a man, and hopefully he wouldn’t make my life as miserable as my dad had made hers.

Part of me wondered what she would do if I said that to her. If I was completely honest—that I didn’t understand why she pushed so hard for me to get into a relationship when her own had turned out so badly.

I didn’t, though. If there was one thing southern mamas taught their children, it was to be respectful.

I had never told her about my crush on Adrian, either. She would be like a dog with a bone and I wouldn’t ever hear the end of it. She would push me to make a move or tell him about my attraction or wear a padded bra and high heels to catch his attention.

As if she somehow intuited that I was thinking about my job, she asked, “What about work? You have to be more assertive and go after what you want. Don’t let people boss you around and not recognize you for all the hard work you’re doing.”

“I’m actually in charge of planning an event where, if it goes well, I’ll get a promotion.”

“Which is how it should be,” she said with satisfaction. “It’s about time. You have let them take you for granted for too long.”

It made me sad that my mom saw only my shortcomings, and not my awesome parts. When I was at an event, I was the person who inspired confidence, who kept my cool in difficult situations and always found a solution.

But just because I wasn’t actively pursuing meeting someone or being the girl boss my mom thought I should be, it didn’t mean that I was falling short.

“Speaking of that event, I need to go. I have a lot of work to do.” Technically it wasn’t a lie. I wasn’t planning on doing any of that work right now, but I did have a lot of work to do for the birthday party.

“Okay, I’ll text you soon. Love you!”

“Love you,” I said.

There was a crashing noise from Vella’s room, and I wondered whether she had busted a hole through her bedroom wall so that she could deal with our neighbors, who apparently had no concept of time or social boundaries.

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