Once we entered my bedroom, she closed the door.
Then locked it.
“You’re scaring me.”
“You can go with Noah,” she said. “But I need one promise first.”
I immediately became angry.
“If this has anything to do with Noah having Down syndrome—”
“It doesn’t.”
“Then what?”
Mom sat on my bed.
“Do you remember when your father left?”
I frowned.
“What does that have to do with tonight?”
“You were twelve.”
Then she said something that caught me completely off guard.
“You stopped eating lunch.”
My arms fell to
