Paranoid(84)

“God, you talk to the dog, like, all the time.”

“So you’ve said, over and over. It’s normal, by the way.”

“Whatever.” Harper retrieved a cup.

“Did you leave the gate open?” she asked. “Last night when you were sneaking out? And did Xander come to the house?”

“No.”

“I’m talking about the gate to the side yard.” Rachel hooked a thumb toward the Pitts’ and Giordanos’ side of the house.

“I said ‘no.’ I wasn’t near that side of the house. Geez, what is this? The Spanish Inquisition? God.” She filled the cup with water and stuck it into the microwave.

“It was open.”

“So what?”

“It’s never open.”

“Oh, geez, don’t tell me you’re going to flip out about a gate. It was probably Dylan or one of his dweebie friends.”

“Let’s not start with insults, okay?”

“Fine. But they are. All of them super computer nerds.” Then, “I thought you were going to wake us for school.” The microwave dinged and she retrieved her cup and started dunking a tea bag into the water.

“I figured you could use a day off.” Rachel leaned a hip against the counter as Reno lapped from his water bowl. “How are you?”

“Fine!” she snapped. “Geez. Dad texted like a million times this morning. I mean, yeah, I’m not cool with what happened. Not cool at all, but . . . I don’t need you guys treating me like a baby. It was awful. I hate it, but”—she looked up—“can we just forget it?”

“Okay, then let’s talk about you sneaking out to be with a boy.”

“Oh. God.” Harper rolled her eyes, still frantically dunking the tea. “Really?”

“Really.” Then, as this was the moment, Rachel asked, “Are you on the pill?”

“What?” She looked at her mother and shook her head. “Oh, Mom, no, let’s not do this.”

“Are you having sex?”

“Oh my God! Don’t, just don’t!”

“Unprotected sex?”

“Stop! Just stop! Just because you and your mom both got pregnant before you were married doesn’t mean I will. It’s not like some mutant gene.”

“But it still happens. I’m just saying, and no judging here, if you need me to—”

“I don’t! Mom, I can handle my life! Just drop it.”

Rachel realized she was handling this all wrong and took a breath to calm herself. “I can’t. This probably seems like a bad time for this conversation, but I’m not sure there’s ever a time when it’s not awkward.”

“I won’t get pregnant. Okay? And I’m not going to get some STD, if that’s what you’re getting at!” Harper was dunking her tea bag so rapidly that water sloshed over the rim of the cup. “Oh, shit . . . crap.” She yanked a paper towel from its spindle and started mopping up the mess. “I can’t deal with this!” Tossing the stained towel into the trash, she abandoned the tea and headed back to her room.

Watching her, Rachel didn’t know whether to throttle her daughter or hold her close and never let go. How much of Harper’s attitude was from dealing with the trauma of the night before, and how much of it was just being a self-centered brat?

Probably a little of both.

You’re the adult, she reminded herself, but sometimes it just didn’t feel like it. She considered tossing the tea down the drain, then picked up the cup, walked down the hall, and rapped on Harper’s door.

Her daughter was just yelling, “Could you just please leave me alone!” when Rachel pushed open the door.

“Mom!” Harper, texting, was propped up in her bed, the duvet wrapped around her, her eyes sullen.

“No lectures, okay?” Rachel said. “But you need to quit yelling and acting like a baby. I know you’ve been through a lot. We all have. But you don’t need to berate me or talk badly about your brother and his friends. We need to stick together.”

“I thought you said ‘no lectures.’”

“That’s all of it.” Rachel set the tea on her daughter’s nightstand. “Just one last thing,” she added and Harper’s lips pinched. “I get that you want to be treated like an adult. I remember. So . . . here’s the deal: You start acting like an adult and I promise I’ll start treating you like one.”

Harper’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You think you can really do that?” She let out a disbelieving huff. “Come on, Mom, you’re . . . well, you know.”

“What, Harper? I’m what?”

Harper’s chin jutted. “You’re, like, paranoid. You freak out at every little thing. The dog got out and you panicked. I heard you calling for him. He’s a dog. He went sniffing into the neighbor’s yard. It’s not a big deal.”

Rachel’s spine stiffened. She’d walked to the door, but now turned and stood in the opening to the hallway. “Things have been a little freaky lately. Weird.”

“I know, yeah. I was there!” On the bed, Harper gave a shudder. “I get why you’re freaked out. People are dying, being killed. It’s scary, but, Mom . . . the dog?”