She bounced away, left an awkward silence in her wake.

"So," I said to Cassidy. "About tomorrow—"

"One more word and I’ll stab you with this compass."

I raised my hands in surrender. "Fine. Let’s talk about your test."

"Let’s not and say we did."

"Cassidy."

"Fine." She slumped in her chair. "I studied. Happy?"

"Ecstatic."

The corner of her mouth lifted. "I’m still going to fail."

"We’ll see."

The end of the day finally arrived. I was stuffing books into my bag when Mr. Klein cleared his throat at the front of the room.

"Before you all escape, a reminder that we only have a week left to prepare for the Halloween festival!" He grinned. "I saw the idea sheet and I love the vampire maid and butler cafe! Very creative, Harlow!"

Harlow, sitting two rows over, practically glowed with the praise.

"Just don’t bite the guests," Mr. Klein added with a laugh.

"No promises!" Harlow called back, and the class chuckled.

People started filing out. I was almost to the door when Harlow appeared beside me, tugged on my sleeve.

"You’re coming tomorrow, right? To help with props and costumes?"

"I already said I would."

"I know, but..." She did the puppy-dog eyes thing that was basically her superpower. "It’s just that it’s really important and I need you there."

"Harlow, I already agreed. Three times now."

"Good!" She bounced on her toes. "Ten AM sharp! Don’t be late!"

I watched her skip away, wondered why she was so insistent when I’d already said yes multiple times.

I headed to my car—well, the borrowed Valentine Lexus I’d been driving since Camille insisted I needed "proper transportation" if I was going to be chauffeuring her daughters around—to go home and get some actual sleep. The parking lot was nearly empty this late in the afternoon. Students had cleared out. Teachers too.

As I clicked unlock, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out, expected another message from Harlow about tomorrow’s prep work.

Iris: EMERGENCY!! COME HOME NOW!!

My blood froze. The phone suddenly felt like ice in my hand. Every rational thought evaporated. There was only instinct now, primal and screaming.

I immediately called her.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

No answer.

I called again, already moved toward the driver’s side door.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Then—voicemail.

"Fuck!"

I dialed Mrs. Delgado, our neighbor. The woman who’d watched Iris since she was six. Who kept spare keys. Who checked on her when I was working late. She picked up on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Delgado, it’s Isaiah Angelo. Is everything okay at the building? With Iris?" The words came out sharp. Too sharp. I could hear my own panic.

There was a pause. Static. Traffic noise in the background.

"I don’t know, honey. I’m at my sister’s in Queens. Haven’t been home since yesterday."

Fuck fuck fuck.

I threw the car into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot, broke at least three school driving rules. The two hour drive to Philly felt like an eternity. Every red light was torture. Every slow driver was personally attacking me.

The whole way, I kept trying Iris’s phone. Nothing. Straight to voicemail.

I parked illegally in front of our building and sprinted up the four flights of stairs, didn’t wait for the ancient elevator.

"IRIS!" I shouted, burst through the door.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

"IRIS!"

I rushed to her room, heart in my throat, imagined the worst—

And stopped dead.

Iris was sitting on her bed. Tears in her eyes. And beside her—

My mother.

Diana Angelo sat on my sister’s bed like she belonged there. Like she hadn’t abandoned us with nothing but a text.

"Isaiah," she said, rose. "Baby, I—"

"Don’t," I cut her off, looked at Iris. "Are you okay?"

Iris nodded, wiped her eyes. "I’m fine. She just showed up."

"And you texted me about an emergency."

"This is an emergency!" Iris gestured wildly at our mother. "She’s here! Actually here!"

Diana stepped toward me. She looked good—better than when she’d left. Hair done. Nails done. New clothes. Wherever she’d been, whatever she’d been doing, it was treating her better than being a mother ever did.

"Isaiah," she said again. "I know you’re angry—"

"I’m not angry," I said flatly.

The words landed like a slap. Her face crumpled slightly.

"I deserved that," she said quietly. "But I want to explain—"

"There’s nothing to explain." I crossed my arms. "You left. You took money from our emergency fund. You’ve been gone for two years."

"I know." She wrung her hands. "I know how it looks—"

"It doesn’t look like anything. It is what it is."

Iris stood up. "Zay, maybe we should—"

"No," I said. "There’s nothing to discuss."

"But she’s our mom," Iris said, her voice small.

And there it was. The knife twist. Because Iris still saw her that way—as our mother. Not as the woman who’d left us both, who’d left us multiple times before. Iris was too young to remember the other times. But I remembered all of them.

"I’m going to make tea," Iris announced. "And we’re all going to sit down and talk like normal people."

She stomped off to the kitchen, left me alone with Diana.

I stared at the woman who gave birth to me. Who I’d spent years taking care of. Who I’d covered for when she didn’t come home. Who I’d made excuses for to teachers and landlords. Who I’d protected Iris from knowing the worst parts of.

"You look good," she said, eyes scanned me. "That’s a nice shirt. Expensive?"

"Why are you here?"

She sighed. "I wanted to see you both. I miss you."

"It’s been years."

"I needed time." She sat back on Iris’s bed. "To figure things out. To get myself together."

"And are you together?"

She smiled—that smile that used to wrap me around her finger when I was younger. "I am. I met someone. His name’s Jack. He’s good to me, Isaiah. He’s helping me get better."

"Great." I didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm. "Congratulations."

"We have an apartment in California. Near the beach. It’s beautiful. You and Iris would love it."

And there it was. The real reason she was here.

"You want us to move to California."