second, she looked like she had seen a ghost.
“Chrissy is almost ready,” she said.
“I am ready.”
Mom turned.
Her face changed when she saw me.
“Come upstairs.”
“What?”
“Just for a minute.”
“Mom, Noah is waiting.”
“I know.”
Noah lifted the corsage.
“I have this.”
“I can see that.”
“It’s rosemary.”
I paused halfway down the stairs.
“Rosemary?”
“The florist said it means remembering.”
He smiled proudly.
“And I remember promises.”
Behind me, Mom made a tiny sound.
I turned.
Her eyes were wet.
“Mom?”
“Upstairs, Christina.”
This time, she didn’t ask.
The second we entered my bedroom, Mom shut the door.
Then locked it.
“Okay. Now you’re officially scaring me.”
She faced me.
“You can go with Noah tonight, but only on one condition.”
Anger came before fear.
“If this is because Noah has Down syndrome, I swear—”
“No.”
“I’m eighteen.”
“I know.”
“He’s my best friend.”
