“The forecast says to expect a spritzing of rain. No way I’m getting my hair frizzy and wrecking my makeup for a football game, no matter how much I want Kellen and the team to win. I dart for the door, but not without my Mom catching me. “So you’re not going to tell me why you’re not going out with Lucas anymore?” my Mom says from the couch. She says this nonchalantly tucked into the corner of the couch, the top half of her body shielded behind the newspaper she’s reading. How did y...ou know that?” I ask stuttering. Wow, that one really caught me off guard. “The ‘Gram,” she says. My face scrunches in horror. “But you don’t have an Instagram.” She slowly slides the newspaper, which covers up her torso, down on her lap, like an intimidating mob boss. I expected her to have a half smoked cigarette in her mouth. “I have a profile on there just to keep tabs on you.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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