Freida is kind enough to pretend like it’s ordinary to arrive home completely disheveled, my dress stained with something mysterious, my eyes red and puffy from crying. She gives me the information for the evening, what my mother ate, what she didn’t eat, with a completely straight face—which is all the more impressive when I actually look in the mirror.
“I really have to shower first,” I say with a groan. Mascara has made track marks down my cheeks. I look like a girl in a horror movie who’s been running for her life and about to die. “She’ll call the police if she sees me like this. You can go home now.”
Sutton shakes his head. He doesn’t seem himself, not quite as assured, but he looks very certain about this. “I’m staying until you go to bed.”
I give him a sideways look. “You hoping
