The heavy lump in my stomach doubled in size as I plodded to the front door of my house. Lan was on her way to do her driver's license test, and I had no place to go but home.

I pulled out the form my counselor, Mrs. McMillan, gave me after my appointment. She told me I had enough credits to graduate early if I wanted, but I would need to complete two semesters of online English classes. Since I couldn't double up on English classes with a full load right now, I would have to sign up and pay an outside institution for classes. All I needed was Courtney's signature and a credit card. A cautious electricity sparked inside of me as I considered Courtney's reaction.

Hours passed as I waited for her to get home. I snacked on an apple and turned on the television, but I wasn't watching it when I heard the vibration of the garage door opening. There was no way of knowing from day to day what mood she would be in, so I waited skeptically on the couch for her to make herself known.

She called my name in a sweet-as-syrup tone as the door shut behind her. Her eyes fell on me. She froze for a moment, followed by a look of confusion. "What did you do to-" I scooted back on the couch as she came to sit next to me. She didn't seem angry like she was when I had colored my hair the night before. Instead she had a slight smile. She reached to comb her fingers through the top of my scalp and I flinched as I thought she was going to smack me, but she was gentle.

I stiffened. "I had to fix it," I explained. "There were stray hairs everywhere."

She folded her hands in her lap. "Did Kim fix it for you?"

My heart jumped. It always jumped before I lied. If she had known where I went—well, I didn't want to find out how mad she would be. "Yes."

Her eyebrows pulled up with anxiousness. "Did you tell her about..." she couldn't bring herself to say the words but I knew she wanted to know if I had told Kim how my hair had been cut.

"No," I reassured her.

Her eyes closed as she drew in a breath. She laid her hand on mine. "You know, I think I was a bit too harsh last night." She leaned in and kissed my forehead as I sat still. "I want to make it up to you."

My eyes moistened. Her admission to being wrong was surprisingly gratifying, but her apology didn't change how angry I was with her for what she had done. I was expected to forgive and move on. I quickly blotted my eyes with my sleeve, and got mad at myself for crying again. "It's fine," I bluffed.

She smiled wider and wrapped me in a hug. "I want to take you to dinner, and then we'll go shopping."

Shopping. Shopping like we did all the time. Shopping like it was a magic cure. It made her believe everything was okay in our relationship.

She insisted I pick the restaurant, and before I knew it, we were having Italian sodas and raviolis at the Old Spaghetti Factory downtown.

"You know," she said, thoughtfully, "you were a beautiful little baby. You had chubby legs and cheeks. Now look at you—you have no meat on your bones."

I smiled. Every time I tried to find out about my childhood, who my father was, where I was born, she would change the subject, but she had opened the door to the conversation so I went in. "What hospital was I born in?"

Her eyes twinkled under the lights of the crystal chandelier. It took her awhile before she answered, "At the hospital where I worked at the time—Littleton." She took a drink.

This was more than she had ever shared before. "What was pregnancy like?"

"Well, you've heard about pregnancy cravings—pickles with ice cream and peanut butter. That was my go-to snack."

I scrunched my nose. "All mixed together?"

"You know it, or was that what I craved with your sister?" Her eyes traveled to the ceiling. "Oh, well, I guess it doesn't matter."

I liked seeing her open up despite the scars of the past. My sister who died before I was born, (God rest her soul,) was a sore subject but Courtney was relaxed, which meant I could relax. "What was dad like?"

She clicked her tongue. "We're not talking about this right now." Her face became shrouded with disdain. The only sound for the next few minutes were the scraping of our forks on the plates as we ate. "I think you might like a pair of new boots."

I resisted an eye roll. I had plenty of boots for all different occasions. "What I'd like is a cell phone."

She quit chewing and stared at me with eyes like darts. "When you're old enough to buy your own cell phone, you'll get one. Cell phones are used for all sorts of nasty things by teenagers. Boys and girls sending nudes. Sexting. Pornography." She wiped her lips with the cloth napkin. "Such a disgrace. Thankfully I've sheltered you from that."

"What if there was a school shooting, a fire in the kitchen, or someone trying to break in?" I asked.

Her eyes alighted on me. "What is the likelihood of those things happening? Those are just arguments they use to convince people to buy cell phones. You know what we did in my day? We ran to the neighbor's house for help. We knew how to put out fires. With school shootings the best chance you have is to run. By the time police arrive half the time you'd be dead if you stood around calling 911."

She had a comeback for everything. My dreams of being able to message Peyton, Lan, or Davianté were shot. I didn't know how to argue with that so I changed the subject back to the list of goals I intended to achieve. "You know, Lan is getting her driver's license today."

Courtney took a drink and pulled the glass away from her puckered lips with a sour expression. She shrugged with indifference.

"I was wondering if I—" the tension in my shoulders made me pause. I reached to squeeze the left one, "—could get my permit."

She stared at her empty plate.

"I'm sixteen now," I reminded her. "Seventeen next month."

She emptied the ice in her glass into her mouth and crunched it. "You don't need a permit. I'll drive you where you need to go."

The anger jumped from my stomach into my throat. "But I do. All my friends have their licenses, and I'm going to need one when I go to college."

She snapped, "There are too many teenagers texting and driving, drinking and driving, having sex in cars, getting in accidents, killing themselves, not to mention it would raise the rates on my car insurance. You have the bus. You'll be fine."

The heat boiled inside me. "But—"

"Not another word. Let's go boot shopping." She tossed her napkin on the table and went to the checkout counter and left me to sit at the table.

I tried to lighten the conversation as we drove to the shoe store. We checked out with a pair of $200 Ugg's. The cashier dropped the receipt in the bag on top of the box they were in, and I set it on my lap on our drive home. We passed by the Dollar Cinemas. There were no cars in the parking lot, but I distinctly saw a light on inside and the silhouette of someone sweeping.

"Can you believe they're opening a theater across the street from our neighborhood?" I asked. "We could watch every movie as they come out."

Her eyes shifted around the car at the mention of it. "That theater is such an ungodly old mess inside. I've been there on a few occasions before it closed. It doesn't have stadium seating or surround sound. It's hardly worth going to."

"It's vintage," I said, trying to make it sound classier. "Besides, there isn't a theatre within twenty miles, and it's a dollar cinema. Easy on the wallet."

She stared ahead without a sign of emotion.

"I've been thinking, I'd like to get a job." I tried to make eye contact with her, but her eyes were glued to the road. "All I need is my social security number."

The street lights made shimmering white paths on the wet pavement in the night. Color seemed to drain from her cheeks. "Deja, why have you done nothing but pester me tonight?"

Oh no. This was bad.

"Don't I buy you everything you need? Seriously! When I was your age I would have loved to stay home and not worry about a job or paying bills... unfortunately, my mother, God rest her soul, had me cleaning houses when I was fourteen to help pay the rent."

She was talented when it came to turning arguments around to be about her. I raised my voice. "I need a job so I can buy the things that you don't want to buy for me."

She pounded on the steering wheel with her fist. "Why? So you can have a sacrilegious cell phone and drive around in a car with boys, get pregnant, and drunk? Not to mention you won't be able to focus on your school work."

I rubbed my temples and tried to alleviate the headache that was coming on. "I'm not going to do any of those things! I just want the freedoms other people my age have."

She flinched as if I had slapped her. We turned down our street. "You're damned right you're not going to do those things, because this is the end of it. I'm your mother, and what I say goes."

I remembered what Lan had said about parents using their kids as a replacement spouse but not in a sexual way. Only a psychological way. I had an epiphany and was starting to see what Lan was saying. How Courtney was holding me back from these things with her endless excuses to maintain control over my life and prevent me from growing up. Maybe she needed to get a boyfriend to get her focus off of me. "Have you ever considered dating?"

"Dating? Me?" She raised her eyebrows like it was a completely outrageous idea. She chortled over it. "I don't want to be anyone's maid."

I thought about a man sitting on our couch with Courtney curled up beside him—distracted from me—while I asked for cell phones and permits, and if she was dating so could I. "Why not?"

She let out an exaggerated breath. "Suppose I ended up with some bum who didn't work while I paid all of his bills."

I sank down into my seat. If only I knew who my dad was, he wouldn't let Courtney control me like this, I was sure. He would be reasonable. Maybe he hadn't wanted me, but if he knew now what she was like, if I had the chance to explain to him, he would have pity on my unfortunate existence. All I needed was his name.

The headlights sliced the darkness as we turned up the driveway and a black ball of fur crouched in our driveway. It was Olivander, our neighbor's long-haired cat. Courtney slammed on the brakes. She was inches away from running him over, then she laid on the horn. "Damn cat! I should have flattened him."

Olivander had always been an evil cat and enormous in size. He dug up our garden several times every summer and pissed on the flower beds until they wilted.

"I'll move him." I got out of the car, and he sat there blinking at me. "Olivander." I edged closer to him. He hissed and arched his back, ready to attack if I came closer. Courtney opened the garage, and I retrieved the broom, swatting at him, and then he was off and over the fence into our neighbor, Wendell's, yard. Courtney pulled into the garage.

When we got into the house, I wanted to bring up the job again, but she seemed guarded, folding her hands into fists, like she might snap if I pushed the issue.

I gathered my new boots and dropped the bag in my closet, too infuriated to make a spot for them on my shoe shelf. I turned around to see the stuffed animals, set up on my bed, back from their snowy grave. I reached for them to see if they were still wet, but they were dry and they smelled like they had been washed.

I gritted my teeth, and took out my frustrations, ripping them seam from seam, and tossing their fluff over my bed, the floor, and spread it around until it covered every square foot of my room. Then I dropped on my bed with exhaustion.