The pickup-dropoff circle in front of Collinsville High School was dark, with orange sodium street lights casting eerie shadows on the cars below.

The cars were running with the heat on, their exhaust puffing out white clouds around the circle, and inside, parents and younger siblings yawned and waited impatiently for the bus to arrive.

Ellen Jackson, Heather's mom, was tapping the steering wheel in earnest, staring at the bumper sticker of the mid-size SUV in front of her that read, "Collinsville Football." She could make out the large form of Mr. Huxley in the driver's seat, his wife beside him. Red taillights shone livid and bright around the circle in the deep evening shadows.

Ellen tilted her wrist to check her watch: 7:30 p.m. She continued tapping on the steering wheel. The bus should be arriving any time. In fact, it was already running a few minutes late, but no matter, she thought - they probably had to stop for gas on the way home, or hit a few extra red lights.

The old cemetery wasn't too far, but was still five or so miles away from the school, through winding roads and out of the way.

Journey's "Faithfully" was playing quietly on the radio, and in the backseat, three-year-old Holly Jackson was slumped over in her cushioned seat, snoring softly. At home, a steaming shepherd's pie was waiting for Heather as an apology for their fight this morning.

Heather had slammed the front door as her mom jerked open the car door to drive her to school, hair still damp and trying to get her second earring in, stumbling on her low heeled shoes. The last sight of her was her backpack swinging over her shoulder, the back of her head cocked upward in rebellion. She hadn't even looked back as she shut the car door on her mom's words: "Have a good day, sweetie."

All day, Ellen had nervously tapped her pen on her desk, trying to focus on emails and spreadsheets for the board meeting - Collinsville Community College was about to roll out a new strategic plan, and the Communications Department needed to be ready with outreach opportunities and press releases - but Ellen's stomach was flipping as she tried to figure out what to say to Heather.

Heather's older sister Nicole was engaged, living in a cramped apartment with two roommates in Boston, about to graduate from BU Law, and 15-year-old Heather couldn't keep her room clean and boyfriend at a safe distance. Greg, a basketball player a year older than Heather, had wandered into the house without invitation and into Heather's room, closing the door behind him.

They had only been dating for five months, and his lack of respect was baffling. Nevermind the sexual overtones of spending hours at a time doing nothing but hanging out in either his basement or in her bedroom, his arm draped over her shoulders, a smirk on his face.

The last time Ellen picked Heather up from his house, at 9:30 p.m. on Monday night, his parents were asleep and Heather closed the door quietly behind her, tiptoeing to the car.

As Heather opened the car door to get in, Holly woke up and started crying.

"So," Ellen said. "What did you guys do today?"

"Not much," Heather shrugged, avoiding eye contact and blushing.

"You were there since school got out," Ellen reminded her daughter. "Did you eat, go somewhere? The bus ride isn't that long. What did you do for seven hours?"

A walk, a dinner, a date would have been nice.

"We just hung out," Heather snapped.

"What does that mean, 'hung out?'" Ellen snapped back.

"Nothing, it just means hung out. Jeez, do I need to write a minute-by-minute schedule for you to analyze?"

Hung out of his pants, more than likely.

"Don't take that tone," Ellen said. "I'm your mother and I have every right to know where you are, and what you're doing."

"We were at his house," Heather said. "We weren't doing anything."

"That's the problem," Ellen said. "You're never doing anything. What? You just sit on the couch all night, watch ten movies? Can you even remember the movies you watched with him? Probably not. You shouldn't be spending this many hours alone, with no supervision."

Heather crossed her arms and slumped, sulking, while Holly continued to sniffle and cry.

Heather's latest progress report, which came in the mail before Heather could intercept, showed that some of her grades -previously excellent - had slipped to Bs and even one B-minus, on the brink of dropping to a C-plus. She had already lied to her mom, saying that they didn't get progress reports in the fall quarter.

The pressure of the relationship seemed to be grinding her down. Heather's homeroom teacher was concerned because Greg wanted to see her in between classes during every locker break, making out with her right in front of the classroom up to the bells ringing. As soon as Heather got home, he was calling the house phone, which Heather would sometimes let ring and ring.

"It's Greg," Ellen would call, elbow-deep in flour and egg for the chicken batter.

"Just let it go," Heather called back.

"What's the matter?" Ellen asked. "Is everything okay with you two?"

"Fine, Mom," Heather would reply. "I just talked to him and I don't need to talk to him again right now."

And then Ellen would call Nicole, her eldest daughter.

"I don't know what to do about them. His parents don't supervise or don't care - they spend all day alone together doing nothing. Or who knows what." Ellen had even prepared for Christmas by buying her books that even Ellen thought were cringe-worthy: You're Worth It and Every Young Woman's Struggle - Christian oriented self-help books on resisting sexual urges and activity, even avoiding hugging boyfriends or dating entirely.

"Mom, I think you need to let up a little," Nicole said in a dull tone. "Heather is at that age. She's going to resist everything you say and the more you push and ask her for details, the more closed-off she's going to be."

"I just don't even think she's happy in this relationship," Ellen said. "He's not good for her and I know it's not going to last. There's something wrong - he's pressuring her and being a bad influence, I just know it. Nothing really bad, but..."

"Okay, I get it, but you just need to let it run its course," Nicole said. "Even if you want them to break up, you can't do it for her. Ugh, Mom, I have to go - I have a lecture tonight and then some friends want to meet up at Black Rose tavern. Talk to you later!"

City girl Nicole was engaged now, but never dated anyone in high school. She was too focused on her academics. Heather was a bit more outgoing, outspoken, and artistic, but she hadn't worked on any of her pieces for her application into the prestigious Art Club at the high school. Her easel was empty, and what should have been finished pastels were left half-hearted, rushed sketches without any color or life, forgotten and gathering dust.

Ellen wanted to badger her more - inspire her - don't you care about AP Art anymore? But she could already imagine Heather's reply: I thought you didn't want me to go to art school.

Last night, which was Wednesday, Greg had attended Heather's soccer match after school. He had sat with Ellen and Holly but didn't say much. There were two boys from Heather's class serving as managers and scorekeepers on the sidelines - Ellen couldn't remember their names, but they were from the hockey team.

Heather was off. She was slow and distracted, a step behind the others, but keeping up just enough to fake it to make it. One of her teammates even opened her arms as if to say, "what the hell, Heather?" when Heather missed a pass. Heather kept glancing toward her mom nervously. Or was it Greg she was looking towards?

At halftime, the managers - maybe Darren and Tim? - brought the girls water bottles while coach talked to them. Tim sat next to Heather and she had smiled, saying something like "thanks," after he gave her a water bottle.

All at once, Greg stood up, slamming his sneaker on the metal bleacher, startling Ellen and Holly.

"Fuck you!" he hissed toward the bench, his hands around his mouth for emphasis.

Tim grinned in response.

Heather didn't notice his anger at first, just waved at him, confused at what he was doing, then rescinding her hand when Greg flipped her off, and started to storm off the field.

Ellen clutched Holly, who had started whimpering, and hurried after him.

"Greg," she cried angrily. "Greg!" She grabbed his arm at the elbow and he violently shook her off, startling her.

"You are not to speak to my daughter that way," Ellen snapped. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Maybe you should teach your daughter not to be a skank," Greg shot back. "Oh wait. She has too many daddy issues to count." He shrugged her off again, stalking toward his car in the parking lot.

"Excuse me?" Ellen cried after him.

After he left, Ellen desperately tried to call Greg's parents, needing someone to take responsibility, but they weren't interested.

"Oh, okay, sorry," his mom, who was at least 20 years older than Ellen, said in a bored-sounding voice.

Ellen stormed back to the bleachers, where the other parents were waiting, concerned.

"What happened, Ellen?" Marguerite asked, touching her on the shoulder.

Ellen just shook her head.

That night, Heather threw her soccer bag to the ground after walking in the door and headed to the kitchen.

"Where do you think you're going?" Ellen snapped. "Get back here."

"Um, going to eat, obviously," Heather said. "I'm hungry."

"Take a seat." Ellen pointed at one of the armchairs by the front door.

Heather, dirty and covered in grass stains, sank into the chair, her eyes raised to her mom behind furrowed brows.

"In case it wasn't obvious, you and Greg are finished," Ellen said. "You can hand over your phone, and I'll be calling your teachers to make sure you don't see each other for even a minute in school."

"Mom!" Heather cried. "What the hell? What did I do? What did you say to him?"

"What did you do? You let an abusive asshole control your life for far too long. Do you even know what he did today?"
For once, Heather didn't have a retort. She shut her mouth, and shook her head.

Ellen explained.

"Aside from disrespecting my rules in my family, he has severe jealousy and control issues," Ellen said. "You want to be one of those girls that makes excuses, that allows him to get progressively worse until he snaps? Because I'm not going to tolerate that kind of relationship."

Heather stared at her feet, tears pooling in her eyes.

Ellen didn't comment on the other things he had said about her father being gone- the truth about his jealousy was quite enough, and it was clear that Heather realized she was right.

"Heather-"

Without a word, Heather stormed upstairs, slamming and locking her door behind her.

Just like that, Ellen's satisfaction sank back to ground zero.