“Is Lisa going to the prom?"I shelved my worries for the moment. "I don't know, Mom. We don't talk about the You-Know-What. We made a pact.""You could go together, if you didn't want to mess with dates and things.""I don't want to mess with the prom at all, Mom."She ignored me, placidly eating popcorn, piece by piece. "Some girls in my high school class did that and had a wonderful time. They weren't lesbians or anything. Not that it would matter if they were.""That's nice, Mom. I'm glad you're so open-minded." I grabbed my Coke and the popcorn bowl and headed for the stairs, because I could go my whole life without ever hearing my mother talk about lesbians again."Maybe you could take Justin to the prom," she called after me, laughter in her voice. "He is such a hottie."Shoot me now.”

“In middle school, my friends decided I was weird, and they didn’t like my hair. They ditched me and talked behind my back, which is cool — I’m over it. [laughs] One time I called them and said, “Hey, do you want to go to the Berkshire Mall?” They all gave me excuses and said no. So I go to the mall with my mom, and don’t you know, we run into all of them. Together. Shopping. My mom could see I was about to cry, so she said, “You know what? We’re going to the King of Prussia mall,” which was the mecca. ”

“I'll just go over to the Duke's," I said. "Her parents already told me I could stay there. I'll go over there and open all my presents, and talk about how my parents neglect me, and then maybe the Duke will give me some of her presents because she feels so bad about how my mom doesn't love me.”

“Mom!" Becca stared at her. "You think—you think I'm dating Michael?"Her mom stared back at her, obviously thrown. "You're not?"This would be hilarious if her mom didn't look so serious."Oh my god," cried Becca. "Are you kidding? Michael is the last person I would ever—oh my god. I wouldn't go out with him if someone paid me. Ugh, that's just—""You know I can hear you, right?" called Michael.”

“How about a rain check?' She smiles, but I know it's not real because it doesn't crinkle her eyes. 'Sure. Some other time.'I nod and grab my car keys. Before I flip the light on in the grage, she's behind me, tugging on my backpack.'You want to go to school? Fine. But you're not driving. Give me the key.''I'm okay, Mom, really. I'll see you tonight.' I plant a quick kiss on her cheek and turn to the door again. 'That's nice. Give it to me.' She holds out her hand.I clench the key in my fist. 'You practically shoved that car down my throat Monday, and now youre taking the key. What did I do?''What did you do? Well, for starters, you used your face to stop a cafeteria door from swinging open.”

“My grandfather was crying. The kind of quiet that is quiet and a secret. The kind of crying that only I noticed. I thought about him going into my mom's room when she was little and hitting my mom and holding up her report card and saying that her bad grades would never happen again. And I think now that maybe he meant my older brother. Or my sister. Or me. That he would make sure that he was the one to work in a mill. I don't know if that's good or bad. I don't know if it's better to have your kids be happy and not go to college. I don't know if it's better to be close with your daughter or make sure she has a better life than you do. I just don't know.”