“What’s this?” she asks, holding up the packet of papers.

“Kelsey made a PowerPoint presentation that lists the supplies each of us agreed to bring.”

She abruptly halts the buggy. “Kelsey Painter?”

“Yeah…she’s living in our suite.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Not totally…as long as she sticks to her room and I stick to mine, maybe we won’t see each other much.”

“I wish you girls could work through your issues…you used to be such good friends.”

“I know!” I snap, and then feel guilty for lashing out at her again. I bow my head and she pats my back. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Me too.” Her voice is sad and that makes me feel like shit, considering she looked so happy when I invited her on my shopping trip.

“I want to fix things with Kelsey. I’m willing to work it out, but she never wants to talk to me. She wants nothing to do with me. Ever since she moved out of Oakdale, she’s been a totally different person.”

“When you met Kyle—”

“I don’t want to talk about him!”

Mom ignores my outburst. “When you met him, you became a different person too, sweetie. But that doesn’t mean you and Kelsey have to forget about each other.”

I stop to examine hideous sandals adorned with yellow feathers. I’d never buy them—they are the ugliest things I’ve ever seen, but I need to concentrate on something before I explode. I can’t control my breathing I’m so pissed.

“Why do you always have to bring things back to Kyle? Yeah, if I hadn’t started dating him, maybe I would’ve had more girlfriends in high school. Maybe I would’ve joined a club or played a sport. Maybe I wouldn’t have spent all my time doing homework, working at the Roadhouse, and kissing him. But what’s done is done.”

“I know,” she says, her eyes tearing up. “You don’t know how often I think that. I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Can we finish shopping now, please?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says in a thick voice, her eyes still watering. “But if you’re really thinking of buying those awful sandals, I’m having you committed.”

That’s when we start giggling, and soon we’re laughing like crazy, and when Mom finds a pair of the sandals with orange feathers, I’m pretty sure the entire store can hear us roaring. As Mom flips through the rest of the PowerPoint, she covers her mouth when she cracks up again.

“These suite rules are interesting. No cooking fish in the microwave?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Cleaning day is every Thursday? And guys can’t sleep over more than twice a week?”

Crap. I forgot that was on there. I can’t believe I just handed the stupid thing over to Mom. My face burns hot with embarrassment.

“That rule is more for Vanessa than the rest of us because she’s in a serious relationship with Rory Whitfield. Don’t worry, guys won’t be spending the night with me.”

She gives me a knowing look. “What’s this about you doing something with a boy on Sunday morning?”

“Stephanie has a big mouth.”

Mom laughs again. “She’s my best friend. Don’t tell her something you don’t want me to find out. So who is he? And why haven’t your brother and I heard about him?”

“You asked Nick?” I exclaim.

“And he was no use. He didn’t know a thing. Spill.”

“My running coach’s brother invited me to run a race with him this Sunday. I thought it would be good experience before the marathon.”

Mom deflates and fans herself with Kelsey’s PowerPoint presentation. “Your brother and Stephanie are gonna be so mad at me. They expected me to get some gossip.”

“But there is none.”

“Are you sure about that?” Her gaze shifts to my fingers. I stop playing with my necklace.

Why do moms have to be so observant?

The first time I slept with Kyle was his sixteenth birthday, after we’d been dating two years. I was three months older than him so I normally did the driving, but that night he drove us down to Normandy Lake—he’d just gotten his license that morning. I couldn’t stop kissing his neck at stop signs and traffic lights.

“You’re killing me,” he moaned, laughing.

We went to his parents’ cabin and made love for the first time in front of the fireplace.

“Happy birthday,” I whispered when we were finished. I ran my hand over his short blond hair. The bristles tickled my palm. “I love you.”