If I Tell

her mug and sipped her coffee. “I swear I’d almost prefer to wear a uniform like yours. So much easier.”
    I glanced at my smeared black pants and dingy white T-shirt, the lame Grinds uniform. “This?”
    “Well. It’s not expensive. And easy to coordinate. Besides you’re so tall and slim, and with your coloring, you look good in anything you wear.”
    “My coloring makes me look cheap and easy?” I tucked my long legs under the table. Being around my glamorous and petite mom always made me feel like a clumsy giraffe.
    “I said ‘not expensive and easy to coordinate.’ You’re listening with marshmallows in your ears. You’re beautiful.” She grinned. “You’re not having anything to drink?”
    “I’m not thirsty.”
    “Lacey’s not working?” Mom asked.
    I glanced away. “No. A new guy is.” I looked behind the coffee counter at Jackson. He was making a latte for a girl. She twirled blond hair around her finger and giggled as she chatted with him. She obviously had no problems with flirting.
    “That’s too bad,” Mom said, and I focused back on her as her forehead wrinkled. The almost four-year age difference between Lacey and me didn’t bother her. I think she was just glad I’d finally found a friend.
    Mom didn’t understand how I could go to school with the same kids for years and not have a gaggle of girls to gossip with. She’d had oodles of friends and dated the hottest football player at my age. But look what that had gotten her.
    Me.
    I’d never told her the truth about what happened to me and still wasn’t even sure which one of us I was protecting.
    “I thought Lacey might want to shop with us,” Mom said. “The sales at the mall are supposed to be amazing. And she’s so good at picking out bargains.”
    My underarms felt sticky with sweat. I sat up straighter. “Lacey is not coming.” I didn’t think we’d be shopping anyhow, but I didn’t say that. Not yet.
    Her expression softened. “No big deal. Just you and me is good.” She leaned back, studying me. “Hey, I know what looks different about you. You don’t have your guitar. You know, you look almost naked without it slung over your shoulder. ”
    “Why would I bring it shopping?” At the same time, I wished I’d brought it so I could clutch it to my chest like a kid with a teddy bear. My guitar was my most prized possession, and holding it gave me more comfort than I’d even realized until that moment.
    Mom took another sip of her decaf, frowning at me over the top of her mug. “Is everything okay? You seem kind of…off.”
    I shrugged and stared at her coffee cup.
    “How’s Grandma?” she asked.
    “Grandma?” I frowned and glanced up at her. “The same. Busy.”
    “Busy saving the world?” She sipped her coffee again and then placed the mug on the table. “You’re happy with Grandma, aren’t you, Jaz?”
    My stomach did a backflip.
    “No. No. Don’t look so worried. I’m not going to ask you to move in with me and Simon again.”
    My stomach did a double flip then, and I swallowed hard, trying to block out an image of Simon. When Mom and Simon first moved in together years before, Mom asked me to move in with them, but Grandma and Grandpa fought her. I’d been glad no one made me choose then. I certainly didn’t want to live with Mom and Simon now.
    “Grandma would have a fit if I tried to take you away from her, especially with Grandpa gone.”
    I slumped down in my chair, wondering how she managed to read my mind so well sometimes. And other times, not at all. I looked at her perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around her coffee cup, still tan from weekends at the beach. Even sun kissed, they were so much lighter than my own skin.
    “I guess I’m just feeling kind of guilty.” The corner of her lip quivered. “I was so young when I had you. The same age you are now.” She glanced around the coffee shop and then back at me. “It was okay? Growing up the way you did?”
    “It works for us.” I lifted a shoulder, wondering why she was bringing this up now. Did she sense I was about to rip apart her world?
    “I love you just as much as if I’d raised you myself,” she said.
    I frowned. “Probably more. Grandma says I’m a pain in the ass.”
    Anxiety bubbled around in my already troubled belly.
    “I have to talk to you about something important,” she said just as I opened my mouth to speak.
    I shut my trap and rubbed my guitar charm, swallowing the growing lump of