They Just Don't Know You

Chapter 12

But Norma doesn't know about any of that. "Undecided," I say. 

"You should go!" she urges. "Take the cute vandal." She winks. "I sensed a little attraction the last time we spoke, am I right?"

Karl turns towards me with a grin. "The what now? Is she talking about Perrie?"

My skin prickles with resentment. Norma doesn't get to do this; she doesn't get to embarrass me about something I haven't sorted out my own feelings about, when she never tells us anything that matters about herself. I straighten my shoulders and incline my head, like we're playing chess and I just figured out my next move. "Homecoming is such a big deal around here, isn't it?" I say. "People are obsessed with the court. They even remember how you were queen, like, over 20 years ago."

Norma's smile changes into something that looks fixed, unnatural, and I lean closer to the phone. She's uncomfortable, and I'm glad. I want her to be. I'm tired of it always being me. "You've never really talked about that," I add. "Must have been a fun night."

Her laugh is as light as spun sugar, and just as brittle. "As fun as a small town dance can be, I guess. I hardly remember it."

"You don't remember being homecoming queen?" I press. "That's weird." Karl tenses beside me, and even though I don't look away from Norma, I can feel his eyes on me. We don't do this; we don't dig for information that Norma doesn't want to give. We follow her controversial lead. Always. 

Norma licks her lips. "It wasn't that big of a deal. Probably more of an event now that kids can document the whole thing on social media." She shifts her eyes towards Karl. "Speaking of which, I'm loving your Instagram stories, Karl. You make the town look so pretty, I almost miss living there."

Karl opens his mouth, about to answer, but I speak first. "Who did you go to homecoming with?" I ask. My voice is challenging, daring her to try and change the subject again. I can tell she wants to, so badly that I almost backtrack and do it myself. But I can't stop thinking about what Zack Robinson said in Dalton's Emporium. A princess. What a stupid thing to want to be. Norma was one, my extroverted, attention-loving mother hit the absolute pinnacle of high school popularity, and she never, ever talks about it. 

I need her to talk about it. 

At first, I don't think she'll answer. When the words spring past her lips she looks as surprised as I am. "Jordan Stephens," she says. I'm not prepared for that, and my jaw drops before I can stop it. Karl inhales sharply beside me. A crease appears between Norma's eyes, and her voice pitches upwards as she looks between us. "What? Have you met him?"

"Briefly," Karl says, at the same time I ask. "Were you serious with him?"

"I wasn't serious about anyone back then." Norma tugs on one of her earrings. It's her nervous tell. I twist a strand of hair around my finger, which is mine. If Norma dislikes this line of questioning, she's going to hate the next one. 

"Who did Amelia go with?" I ask. 

It's like I took an eraser and wiped the expression right off her face. I haven't asked about Amelia in years; Norma trained me not to bother. Karl cracks his knuckles, which is his nervous tell. We're all wildly uncomfortable and I can see all of a sudden why Hamilton House counsels "uplifting communication."

"Excuse me?" Norma asks. 

"Who was Amelia's homecoming date? Was it someone from Echo Ridge?"

"No," Norma says, glancing over her shoulder. "What's that? Oh, okay." She turns back to the camera with an expression of forced brightness. "Sorry, but I need to go. I wasn't supposed to use this phone for more than a couple of minutes. Love you both! Have fun tonight! Talk soon!" She makes a kissy face at us and disconnects.