The Distance Between Us

thinks my mom has done this on purpose. To show me how the other half lives. And I’m just now realizing that in a way she has. My mom grew up rich. This is why she knows way more than she should about the ins and outs of wealthy living. My mom . . .
    She lied to me. My life is a lie. No. Her life is a lie. Mine is the truth. We are broke. We are living breath to breath. One extra bit of oxygen consumed could be the ruin of our store.
    “What’s wrong? What have I done?” Xander asks.
    I must be shooting death rays because I’m so angry. “You only liked me because you thought . . .” I can’t even finish the sentence. I’m too angry. Not just at him. At everything. At my mom, the situation, the grandparents I don’t even know. “I have to go.”
    I whirl around in time to see another familiar face standing there. One I don’t care to see. Robert. Seeing his face makes me wish I had poured soda on it last time.
    Xander has grabbed my elbow. “Wait. Talk to me.”
    “I don’t think I ever caught your name,” Robert says.
    “I never gave it,” I growl.
    “Where is your boyfriend tonight? Mason, right? He’s a really good singer.”
    Xander’s hand on my elbow tightens. “Robert, now is not a good time.”
    “I just saw her at the concert last week. I hadn’t realized she and Mason were together.”
    “We’re not,” I say.
    “What do you mean?” Xander drops his hand from my arm.
    “They were all over each other.”
    “No. We weren’t.” Out of the corner of my eye I see my grandmother about to reach us. “I have to go.”
    “Caymen.” Xander’s eyes look hurt, but I’m hurt as well. Too hurt to think. Too hurt to defend myself against his jerk of a friend. I just need to leave.
    And I do.

Chapter 37

    I have competing feelings battling for my attention as I walk into the store. One is the extreme amount of anger I feel toward my mom for lying to me my whole life about everything. The other feeling is an intense broken heart that makes me want to rush into my mother’s arms and tell her she was right about rich guys and I need her to make my hurt go away.
    She’s sitting like a statue behind the cash register, like she’s been waiting for me. The lights are off with only a few glowing shelves. The look on her face is almost as lifeless as the dolls that surround her.
    “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’ve been unfair.”
    “They were there tonight,” I croak. My throat still hurts.
    “Who?”
    “Your parents.”
    Shock, followed by devastation, makes her face crumple, and she leans her head onto the counter in front of her. I’m too busy feeling sorry for myself to feel bad for her. I walk by her, up the stairs, and into my room, making sure to shut the door firmly.
    I’ve seen lots of broken dolls in my life. Some with damage as small as a missing finger but others with dislocated limbs or cracked skulls. None of that compares to how broken I feel right now. It’s my own fault. I always knew he was part of an entirely different species. Why did I let myself think I could be a part of that?
    I change out of my clothes and into some sweats then curl up on my bed and finally let the tears that have been building up inside my head come out in heaving sobs.
    There’s a small knock on my door and I ignore it. It doesn’t stop her from coming in. Why would it? She obviously has no respect at all for my feelings. I push back the tears again and try to control my breathing. She sits on the bed behind me.
    “There’s really no good explanation as to why I kept my parents’ identity from you. I guess maybe a small part of me thought you would want their lifestyle. That I couldn’t give you enough and you’d go look for them for what you thought you were missing.”
    If she had just left me alone I could’ve kept it in, but the fire in my throat is ready to spew out. “Why did you leave them?” I push myself to sitting. “What did they do?”
    “Caymen, no. They did kick me out. Disown me. I was always honest about that. But I’m sorry. I truly am. I could’ve been more open. I was angry and hurt and prideful toward my parents. I didn’t give them a chance to make amends even had they wanted to. I just disappeared.”
    “And you made me feel horrible about keeping Xander a secret. You made me feel worthless. Like Mrs. Dalton and her family hated me.”
    “I’m so sorry.”
    “Mrs. Dalton knows who you are? I don’t understand.”
    “She knows my story, but I