Page 58 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
“Nevermind that.” Miranda takes a measured sip of wine and sets the glass back on the table. “Look, if there are things you need to work through, you can do it during therapy on Saturday.”
“Oh. You got that call?”
Miranda taps a note in her planner. “Got a voicemail from your social worker. Come to think of it, there are voicemails from your school I haven’t listened to yet. I assume they’re about the camera, yes?”
I suck in a breath and force myself to nod.
Miranda studies me for a beat too long. “Anything else I should know about, Alice?”
No, you don’t need to know I’m skipping classes. “You don’t need to check the voicemails. I’ll handle the camera situation at school.”
“You’d better not start more trouble with the Whitmore boy. His father donated the entire photography lab at your school.”
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely. Don’t you get it, Alice? This town is filled with important people. This is why I’m here. This is the reason Ryder is here. And now, you have a reason to be here.” Miranda straightens in her chair, calming her composure. “Please, Alice, I can’t deal with any more stress right now. My phone is already filled with emails, texts, and calls about Sky Chaos and my other clients. I have no more bandwidth left for your problems.”
“My problems?” My chin drops and my bottom lip quivers. “I’m sorry social services called you. But you are my guardian, and you need to...”
Miranda cuts me off with a weary sigh. “I’m aware. Look, parenting you isn’t something I planned on. I just assumed a student with your aptitude would be self-reliant.”
My hand lands on the space above my heart as it cracks in two. “Miranda, my parents are gone. I need time.”
“Alice, I lost my parents too. I’m well aware.”
“If you know what I’m going through, can’t we talk about it?”
Miranda shakes her head and resumes twirling her linguine. “I can’t do that. If I backtrack through my life, I might get back to the part that had your mother in it.”
For a moment, all I can hear is my own ragged breathing. “What… what happened?”
Miranda lifts her gaze from her food and hits me with a cutting stare. “You don’t want me speaking ill of the dead.”
I claw at my sweater as if it will protect my failing heart. “You still think badly of her? Even though she’s gone? Was it really that bad a fight?”
Miranda’s perfectly sculpted eyebrow arches. “Did you see us exchange holiday cards in the past twelve years?”
“No, but… she’s gone, Miranda. Don’t you miss her?”
Miranda sets her fork down, defeated. “Don’t you understand? To me, she was already gone.”
The tears that were tight in their ducts now stream down my face. I wipe them away, but more fall down the same path.
Miranda turns in her seat to face me fully. “She was your mother. Obviously, this is hard for you. But don’t make this harder by making me talk about her. You don’t want that. Okay?”
With nothing else to do, I nod.
Miranda’s phone rings again, and she excuses herself from the table, tucking her planner under her arm.
“Yes, I saw the rough cuts from today’s shoot...”
Her voice fades as she disappears down the hallway. I’m left at the dining table, my plate still mostly full, and my hands trembling.
Mrs. Gallagher appears from the kitchen. “Finished, miss?”
I nod, even though I’ve barely eaten anything.
She clears the plates efficiently, not commenting on how much food I’m wasting.
