Chapter 10

I got to lunch a little late the next day. My History teacher was lecturing me about putting my "best work" into the essay, and how she "knew I could do better." When I got to the wall, I saw Annabel staring worriedly at a piece of paper, probably a note from her lunch box.

"Bad news?"

She jumped. "What?"

"You looked stressed. Something wrong?"

She put the note away and said no. I sat down. I thought maybe she was holding something back. Then again, maybe not. But usually, when someone looks stressed, they are.

"It's just this thing with my mom." More details please… 'Thing' of course, is a placeholder. A serious one. I told her so. She started talking about her modeling. Apparently, she wants to quit. But her mom doesn't want her to quit. So she's not telling her mom.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't do confrontations."

I glanced pointedly at Sophie before looking back to Annabel.

"I don't do confrontations well."

"What happened between you two?"

"Me and Sophie?" Of course. "We had a falling out over the summer." More details… "She thinks I slept with her boyfriend." Ah, that explains it. But wait…

"Did you?" I couldn't imagine that she did. But if she didn't, why doesn't Sophie know that?

"No. I didn't."

"Maybe you should tell her that."

"It's not that simple."

"Huh. Call me crazy, but I'm sensing a theme here."

We clarified. She needs to be honest. For some reason, that's really hard for her. And it is hard. It just takes practice.

"Practice?"

"In Anger Management, we had to do all this role-playing stuff. You know, to get used to handling things in a less volatile way."

"You role-played."

"I had to. It was court-ordered. But I have to say, it was kind of helpful. You know, so that when sand if something similar did happen, you had some kind of road map for dealing with it."

"Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense."

Excellent. Her turn. "All right then. So say I'm your mom." Which is odd. As Rolly thinks I like her. And…I think I might too.

"What?"

"I'm your mom. Now tell me you want to quit modeling."

"I can't do that." Well, at least I'm not the only one who thinks it's weird for a humongous guy her age to be her mom…

"Why not? Is it so hard to believe?" Besides the obvious. "You think I'm not a good role-player?"

"No. It's just--"

"Because I am. Everyone wanted me to be their mother in group." I know, I know, very odd. Supposedly, I'm motherly. Well, being motherly is positive, right?

"I just…Its weird."

"No, it's hard. But not impossible. Just try it."

"Ok. So—"

"Mom"

"What?"

"The more accurate the exercise, the more effective it is. Go all out."

"Ok. Mom."

"Yes?"

We went through most of the conversation, with me correcting her once or twice. But then, right when she was going to tell 'Mom' that she wanted to quit modeling, she couldn't do it. Or wouldn't.

"Look, I'm just going to say this: It's got to suck, you know? Keeping something like that in. Walking around every day having so much you want to say, but not doing it. Its gotta make you really mad. Right?"

She made a stupid excuse and left. She lied to my face. Did I say something wrong? I mentally went over what I said. I didn't think I said anything bad. Oh well. Maybe she really did have to talk to her English teacher. No, it was a lie. But there was probably some other reason she didn't want to stay. Nothing to do with me. I hope not, anyway.