Root squeezed Sameen's hand under the table. She smiled when she felt the now-familiar squeeze back. Sameen had won the championship for Bishop High School again and now they were all out to celebrate. Root had no doubt that Sameen would be captain of the soccer team next year.
She looked around the table. The adults sat at the far end; her mother, Mrs. Reese, Grace, and Principal McCarthy. Her mother kept glancing over at them and Root swallowed nervously. She hadn't told her mother that she and Sameen were dating and, honestly, she wasn't sure that she would.
Her mother had finally stopped asking her about boys, but Root knew she wasn't happy about Root liking girls. The past few nights, she'd been finding bible verses on her pillow when she woke up. It made Root so mad that her mother was trying to control her. Root had been taking care of herself for so long, it was suffocating to have her mother try and parent her.
Her mother didn't even want to parent her all the time. It was only about things she didn't approve of, like Sameen. Root knew the gay thing wasn't the only reason. Her mother wasn't happy that Sameen wasn't white. She could be so small-minded.
"Hey, Root?" Sameen said quietly, leaning towards her. "You're crushing my hand."
Root let go of Sameen's hand, shaking her head to clear her mind. She smiled at Sameen, trying to seem normal. Sameen looked at her, concerned.
"What's wrong?" Sameen asked her, leaning closer.
Root pulled her hands up, laying them on the table.
"It's nothing," she said, ducking her head to talk into Sameen's ear. "My mom keeps looking at us."
They looked over at Root's mom and caught her looking at them. Sameen turned back to Root.
"Have you told her?"
"No," Root shook her head, "I haven't. I wasn't going to."
Sameen frowned, but she nodded. "Ok. Do what you think is best. You know her."
Root chuckled, humorlessly. "I don't know her at all. That's the problem."
A chair scrapped back and Root looked up to see her mother standing. Her mother gave her a meaningful look, then smiled down at the other adults.
"I'm not feeling well," she said. "I'd like to go home."
Root sighed and stood. She'd been looking forward to spending the night in the hotel room with Sameen, Joss, and Zoe. It was almost a 4 hour drive back to Bishop, though, and there was no way she could drive eight hours tonight. Her mother picked up her purse and headed out of the restaurant.
"Do you have to go?" Joss sighed. "We were going to watch a movie tonight."
"Yeah," Root shrugged. "I can't let her go alone."
Mrs. Reese smiled sadly at her. "I'm sorry, Honey. Let me know when you get home."
Root nodded and stepped away from the table. Sameen's hand came up and caught her arm. She held up her keys.
"Here," she said. "You can take my car."
Root's mouth dropped open. "You're giving me the keys to Ruth?"
"We are not naming my car after Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Root." Sameen rolled her eyes. She pushed the keys into Root's hand and wrapped her fingers around them. "Text me when you get home."
"I will," Root smiled. She looked around the table quickly and then pressed a quick kiss to the top of Sameen's head. "Bye, everyone."
She waved as they said goodbye and walked around the table. She headed outside and spotted her mother at the bus stop just outside the parking lot, smoking a cigarette. Root rolled her eyes and headed for Sameen's car.
"Mom!" she called. Her mom turned to look at her. "Come here! I'm driving!"
Her mom dropped the cigarette to the street and ground it with her shoe. She walked across the grassy median to Root. Root unlocked the car and reached forward to adjust the seat back. She had to remember to move it back when she got home or Sameen would be upset. She was so sensitive about her height sometimes.
Root angled herself into the car, turning on the engine, and buckling her seatbelt. Her mom knocked on the passenger window and Root reached across the car to push up the lock. She plugged her phone in to charge and opened her GPS. When her mom was settled, Root shifted into reverse.
Root backed them out of the parking spot and maneuvered them out onto the street. Her mother turned on the radio as they turned onto the highway, switching it to a Christian rock station. Root clenched her hands around the steering wheel.
They drove in silence for over an hour, Root grinding her teeth and trying not to be angry at her mother for making her leave her friends. For almost six years, even when her father was still around, Root had taken care of herself. She learned to cook, to clean, to sell furniture on the internet. She knew the location of every Goodwill in the county.
Now, her mother was sober and Root was still taking care of her. Her mother hadn't worked in almost a year. Root was working 30 hours a week, more if she picked up weekend shifts, just to pay utilities and buy food. Sameen was the thing holding her together and her mother was trying to ruin it.
"Where did you learn to drive stick?" her mother asked, an hour into their drive.
"Mrs. Reese taught me," Root answered, pressing the clutch and shifting up. "She taught me and Sameen over the summer."
Her mother crossed her arms and looked out the window. They continued on in silence. After a while, the cars around them started slowing down. Root braked, shifting into a lower gear. There must be an accident up ahead. Root looked at her phone, two and a half hours left. Her mother took opportunity to start a conversation.
"Are you and that Mexican girl dating?" she asked, still frowning out the window.
Root ground her teeth. "She's not Mexican. She's Persian."
"Whatever," her mom shrugged, "Same thing."
"It's not the same thing. She's not Mexican or even Hispanic. Her parents were Iranian."
Her mom turned to squint at her. "Is she legal?"
"Jesus," Root scoffed. "Yes. She was born here."
"You didn't answer my question."
"Yes," Root sighed, hands tight around the steering wheel, "we're girlfriends."
"And Mrs. Reese is encouraging this?" her mom questioned her. "How irresponsible."
"What do you know about responsibility?" Root glared at her. "Mrs. Reese cares about me."
Her mom looked away, swallowing. Root sighed loudly. She didn't want to be mean to her mother. She wanted her mother to accept her. Religious overtures aside, Root and her mom had been getting along. They ate dinner together when Root had time and they'd even played Monopoly once.
The car in front of them sped up a little and Root moved them forward.
"I just think…" her mother started, "that you are too young to know who you like."
Root growled. "If I liked boys, would you tell me I was too young?"
Her mother didn't answer, just rolled her eyes. "Liking boys is normal. It's natural. This…thing you have for that girl isn't."
Traffic started moving again and Root sped down the highway, desperate to get home and away from her mother.
"Have you had sex?"
"Mom!" Root flushed. "No. We haven't."
Her mother held her hands up. "I'm just checking. No man's going to want to marry someone who's been deflowered."
"Deflowered?" Root repeated, incredulous. "I'm not…I-"
She hit the steering wheel. Root couldn't think of another time she'd been so angry. She almost wished her mother had never gotten better, had just…stayed at rehab. She'd never have found out how her mother felt about gay people, how much she disapproved of Root.
"I have straight As," Root said, glaring out the front window at the night. "I've got a job. I've got great extracurriculars. I'm going to do an internship next summer. I'm probably going to get a full ride to college. Is that not good enough for you?"
"That's all fine," her mother agreed, "but don't you want to be a wife? Or a mother?"
"Being gay doesn't mean I can't have those things. I can get married."
"Not to a woman."
Root realized that her mother didn't know about the marriage act, didn't know that gay marriage was legal. Her stomach clenched. Her mother hadn't bothered to do any research about what she'd missed while she was…not sober. How was Root her daughter?
"It's legal. It has been for years."
Her mother looked surprised. "Really? I can't believe that. It must be those commies."
"Oh my god," Root muttered. She glanced at her phone again. Just under two hours left. "I can't talk to you."
Root's mom muttered something under her breath and raised her feet onto the seat. Root glanced down and saw dirt smudges on the pale, leather seats.
"Put your feet down," she ordered. Her mother dropped her feet. "Thanks."
They continued along the highway, the stars bright in the darkness. Root had never realized how few streetlights there were on the highway. Normally, she'd be talking to Sameen or reading on the bus. Root sighed and tried to think about the future, when she was out of Bishop and free.
She and Sameen were going to find colleges close together. Root had always wanted to go to MIT, so they could find somewhere nearby for Sameen to go. Maybe Harvard or Yale. Root remembered what Sameen had said on Valentine's Day. 'Six months. At least." She made a mental note to bring up their relationship status in August.
She glanced at her mother. Her mom didn't go to college. She'd gotten pregnant with Root her senior year of high school and dropped out. Root's father had been a college student in Kingsville, studying computer science. He'd been the one to get Root interested in programming and hacking.
That's why she'd chosen to send pizzas to his house as her perpetual revenge. That was their thing: Pizzas and Programming. She would sit on his lap while he coded and they would have snacks. When he'd left…
Root's mother pulled a water bottle out of her pursed and took a sip. Root couldn't remember when her mom started drinking. She'd been a drunk for as long as Root could remember. The only good memories Root had with her were on Christmas.
Her mother would come into her room at dawn, when she'd only had one drink, and she'd wake Root up. Root would run down the stairs and they'd sit around the tree, usually a small, potted palm tree from Home Depot, and open presents.
That had stopped when she was 10. Her father started spending more time out of the house and her mother started spending more time at the bar. Everything had unraveled so quickly. Her mother stopped coming home, her father stopped teaching her. Root was 12 when she first thought her family might be better without her.
She'd been at the grocery store, stocking up on supplies to run away with when she'd met Hanna. Hanna had looked so happy, standing in the bread aisle. Root hadn't even been able to say hello, she'd just dropped her basket and ran home, heart racing. After some research, and a little re-arranging, Root had shown up at school the next day transferred into all of Hanna's classes.
She remembered riding her bike home that day, on top of the world. Hanna had talked to her about The Saddle Club and, because of her research, Root had already learned all about it. She'd played down her knowledge though and Hanna had invited her to over to watch it that weekend.
Root had burst into her house and run to find her mom, telling her all about her new friend. Her mother…Root swallowed hard. Her mother had crushed her, telling her she was worthless and unworthy of friends. It had only made Root want to be friends with Hanna more, but it had also made Root realize she couldn't talk to her mother. She was on her own.
Root turned into Bishop, speeding home. Her mother turned in her seat, putting a foot up on the seat.
"Put your foot down," Root ordered again.
Her mother dropped her foot and sighed. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I'm trying to step up and be a good mother."
"What fucking right do you have to mother me?" Root yelled, slamming her fist down on her armrest. "I run the house, I run my own life, I run your life, too. I'm not a child, mom! God, I wish I was."
She slammed the brakes in front of her house, throwing the car into park. She pulled the emergency break as her mother rushed out of the car and into the house. Root watched her slam the front door and sighed. She dropped her head onto the wheel with a thump.
She hadn't meant to say that. Root had done her best to keep her feelings from her mother, but they were out now. Root picked her head up and unbuckled her seatbelt. She was still going on the road trip this summer. Her mother wasn't going to stand in the way of her living her life.
Root noticed her mother's purse, still on the passenger seat floor, and picked it up. She pushed her way out of the car and turned to pull the seat forward to Sameen's preferred distance. Locking the car, she headed into the house.
She dropped her mom's purse in the entryway and jogged up the stairs to her room. Her phone buzzed as she pulled out her keys to open her bedroom. Root hurried inside, sliding the chain across the door and hopping onto her bed.
She pulled her phone out.
/Are you home? Is Ruth ok?/
Root grinned. /Just got home. Ruth is perfect. How's Georgetown?/
Root watched Sameen type for a second before tossing her phone onto her bed. She yanked her shoes and socks off, tossing them towards her closet. Her phone buzzed.
Sameen had sent her a picture of two slushies, one red and one blue. Root smiled softly. Sameen had gone to the same 7/11 they'd gone to last year.
/I got two of them. I'll send a pic of my blue mouth later. If you show anyone, I'll murder you./
Some of the tension eased out of her and Root let out a long breath. She hopped onto her knees and pulled her shirt off. She opened her camera and laid back on the bed. It took her 5 minutes to arrange her hair perfectly and find the best angle to show off her boobs.
She sent the photo to Sameen. 2 minutes later, Root's phone rang. She answered it, smug.
"Hey, Sweetie!"
"Are you trying to kill me?" Sameen's voice demanded.
Root laughed. "Oh, did you get that? It was for my other girlfriend."
"I hate you. You're beautiful."
"I like you, too."
Root sighed, remembering her conversation with her mother.
"What's wrong?" Sameen asked her. Root heard the sound of a Slushee being slurped. "Is it your mom?"
"Yeah," Root said, holding the phone against her ear with her shoulder so she could wiggle out of her jeans. "She knows we're dating."
"I'm guessing she didn't take it well."
Root considered telling Sameen that her mother called her Mexican, that she hadn't bothered to learn anything in the six months since she'd been home, that Root had yelled at her. Instead, she just sighed again.
"It was a rough drive home." Root closed her eyes, pressure building behind her eyes. She was not going to cry on the phone with Sameen. "I should go to sleep. Driving wore me out."
Sameen didn't answer for a moment. She sighed. "Ok, I'll text you in the morning."
Root bit her lip. She wanted to talk to Sameen, but her mom was her problem. Sameen was always comforting Root. She wasn't comfortable with emotion and Root was having a lot of emotions right now.
"Ok, Sameen. I'll talk to you later."
"I like you."
Root smiled. "I like you, too."
Root hung up the phone and tossed it onto her nightstand. She needed to go to sleep.
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Root woke up with a groan and pushed her hair out of her face. She blinked her eyes open, wondering what woke her up. She usually slept like the dead.
Her sheets rustled and she turned over, still bleary. Sameen was sliding into her bed.
"Sameen?" Root asked, propping herself up on her elbow. "Did you take your shoes off?"
Sameen rolled her eyes, the moonlight through the window illuminating her face. "Yes, nerd. Of course."
Root leaned forward to kiss Sameen, reaching forward to pick at Sameen's shirt. She pulled away slowly, scooting her body into Sameen's warmth.
"What are you doing here?" she mumbled. "Why aren't you in Georgetown?"
"You were upset," Sameen shrugged, burrowing into the bed and wrapping her arms around Root. "I didn't want you to be alone. I took a bus."
Root's heart skipped a beat. Sameen had taken a bus for 4 hours to comfort her. Root licked her lips and slipped her fingers into Sameen's hair.
"I didn't want to bother you."
"Root," Sameen scoffed, "You're my girlfriend. I'm here to be bothered."
Root pressed their lips together, her bare leg sliding between Sameen's. Her heart was full. Sameen sighed into her mouth and pulled away.
"Ok, hit me with the feelings stuff. I am unsympathetic, but interested."
"Well," Root started, pulling the comforter over their shoulders, "she called you Mexican…"