“What about your friends?”
She stiffened.
“Mom,” she groaned. “What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?”
Then she disappeared down the hallway and slammed her bedroom door.
Confronting her directly wouldn’t work.
So the next morning, I followed her.
I watched her board the bus like usual. Then I drove behind it at a distance.
When the bus stopped at the high school, dozens of teenagers spilled out.
Emily stepped off too.
But instead of joining the crowd heading toward the entrance, she hung back near the bus stop sign.
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