It was a Friday night, and I was home way too early. Ballet class was cancelled because the studio was rented out for the afternoon or something, meaning that I didn't even have my usual distraction to keep me busy tonight. By five thirty, my mom finally got curious about what I was doing in my room. As per usual, she opened the door without asking. Neither of my parents were particularly private people, so they tended to assume that meant I had no secrets from them. If only.

My mother noticed West Drive was playing on my computer before I had a chance to close it. It was well-known that I never watched dramatic teen drama shows unless I was upset about something. She stepped over to my window and threw open the curtains, sending in a blinding wave of light. "That's better!" she said as I squinted to protect my eyes. "You look bored. Why don't you call up Imogen and have her over for dinner? I'd love to get to know your friends a little better."

I realized then that it was a mistake to say Imogen was my best friend. Gal pals weren't supposed to go through nasty breakups like girlfriends do. "I don't know," I said noncommittally. "She's kind of going through some stuff, and she's busy with the play."

"Isn't there anyone else you can call?" she asked.

It had been a while since I spent much time with friends I hadn't inherited from Imogen. Before Imogen came into my life, when I still thought of myself as polyamorous, casual, and uncommitted, I spent time with Myra and Jaden from the dance studio. I think Myra might have wanted something more than the friends-with-benefits arrangement we had, but she was never bold enough to say it. Jaden, on the other hand, had one of those boyfriends who "didn't mind." There was never any pressure to call myself "gay" or even ever talk about what we did together. It was just understood that nothing meant anything. Maybe that was what I needed right now.

"I'm sure there's someone," I told her. "Thanks for the advice."

My cell phone was sitting in my desk drawer. I had stopped bringing it to school because I was tired of fighting hundreds of other people to retrieve mine from one of two cardboard boxes at the end of the day. Once I woke it up, I scrolled through the contacts list for Jaden's number. After a few rings, it became clear that Jaden wasn't answering.

She had to, sooner or later. Things were so much easier with Jaden than they had been with Imogen. With girls like Jaden and Myra in my life, I could tell myself that I wasn't the kind of girl who did real relationships. I was of the opinion that parents didn't need to know about flings and hookups. It was only when things got serious that you should ever consider telling them. For a while, I told myself things wouldn't get that serious with Imogen. She had just gotten out of a serious relationship a few months ago, and I figured (or maybe hoped) that it would be hard for her to move on from that. Of course, as is usually the case with Imogen, things didn't work the way I expected them to.

It wasn't enough for Imogen to just say "no thanks, I'm not poly" to me. Instead, she had to question my reasons for engaging in the lifestyle. To be fair, I did spring it on her without actually talking to her about it first and just expect her to be cool with it. That was probably how she knew I was just using non-monogamy to push her away. She wouldn't let that be the end of us. Even after I thought I had committed to her completely, little things kept happening. Jaden kissed me after class, and it didn't occur to me to tell her "no." Kissing was just kissing, right? When Zoë asked me to sext with boys for money, I went along with it. Breasts were just breasts, right? It was always Imogen who insisted these things meant something. I criticized her for being uptight or making a big deal out of everything, but I knew she had a point. She couldn't have made it clearer if she had said "Jack Jones, I think you want to be in love. You're just constantly pushing people away with this 'who cares' attitude so it will never happen."

That's exactly what I was doing, but I didn't want to stop. It shouldn't be too much to ask to have your supportive family and your girlfriend at the same time. My parents weren't religious, but I knew they'd see me being a lesbian as something of a loss. I remember when my cousin came out as bisexual, they both offered lukewarm support while losing their minds with worry that he'd be beaten up or get an STD. A little worry isn't bad, but when they saw him, the way they looked at him was like he was responsible for all the pain that worry caused them. It wasn't pretty, and I never wanted them looking at me like that.

Interrupting my train of thought, I heard the sound of the doorbell downstairs. My mother answered it before I could even get my bedroom door open.

"Hi, is Jack home?" Imogen's unmistakable voice asked.

"I think so. Jack?" she called.

My face must have turned bright red as I rounded the corner toward the stairs and raced down them. "Imogen, what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to make sure we're still friends," she said, placing deliberate, almost frustrated emphasis on 'friends.'

My heart was racing as I looked between my mother and my ex-girlfriend, hoping that this encounter could end without my mother finding out too much about me.