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Emma
Emma heard crunching gravel and knew it was her mother before she even saw the car. And though she knew she was about to get it, part of her was relieved that her mother was coming for her. She couldn’t wait to climb into the safety of that old car.
“Uh-oh,” Isabelle sang, “someone’s in trouble.” She didn’t even try to hide her delight.
Raven looked scared.
“Look!” Isabelle held up her phone.
It took Emma a second to realize what she was looking at. Then, when she did, she felt sick.
Isabelle had posted the picture on social media.
“You didn’t say you were going to do that!” Raven cried.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t, either.” Looking down at her phone, Isabelle gave a smug smile that made Emma hate her. Really hate her.
“Emma! Get in the car!”
Emma headed that way before her mother finished her sentence. But even though Emma was obeying, her mother left the car and headed toward her—and then right past her.
Oh no. Please don’t, Mom. They’re not your kids.
“I am so disappointed in you young ladies. Why would you do something like that?”
Emma climbed into the car, slammed the door, and put her head in her hands.
“I will be discussing this with each of your parents.”
Isabelle snickered, and Emma went from being embarrassed by her mother to worried about her. Her mother was sensitive and didn’t have an easy life. She didn’t need to be disrespected by the likes of Isabelle.
Emma started to climb back out of the car, but her mother had already turned and headed her way, her face twisted up in fury. Emma felt sick to her stomach.
Her mom slammed the door so hard that the whole car shook.
“I’m sorry,” Emma said quietly.
“I’m sure you are.” Her mother didn’t believe her. She threw the car in drive and then peeled out, spraying gravel behind them. Her fingers clutched the steering wheel in a death grip.
“I tried to stop it.”
“Well, you didn’t try hard enough.” There was a hardness in her mother’s voice that she wasn’t used to.
Emma felt horrible about what Isabelle and Raven—mostly Isabelle—had done, but was her mother overreacting? She didn’t know what her mother wanted her to say, so she stayed quiet for a minute. Then she thought of something she wanted said. “Thank you for coming to get me.”
Her mother’s fingers relaxed their grip on the wheel, and she took a deep breath. “You know I love you, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I will love you no matter what. You can’t do anything to change that, ever. But I am really disappointed in you right now. I can’t believe my daughter did something so cruel.”
Yes, she was overreacting, and she didn’t even know about the social media piece. “I’m sorry.” A thought occurred to her. “Is this because I’m a pastor’s kid?”
Her mother answered with a guttural, humorless laugh. “No, not at all.”
This was a small comfort.
“I want you to grow up to be the strong, kind woman that I know you are. I know there will be missteps. I’m not asking you to be perfect, but I still have high expectations of you because I know you.” She took a shaky breath. “I wish that being a pastor’s kid didn’t offer additional pressure. I’m sorry that it does, but that pressure will never come from me.”
Emma had heard variations of this sentiment before, but it still felt good to hear it again. “Isabelle tried to make me do it, and I said no. But then she told Raven, and Raven didn’t have the guts to say no. I didn’t know how to stop it, Mom. I really didn’t. If I could have thought of a way, I would have.”
Her mom nodded. “I think you should go apologize to Mrs. Patterson. Invite Raven and Natalie to come along.”
Emma’s stomach rolled.
“You can invite Isabelle too, of course, but I’ll eat my hat if she agrees.”
“Mom, I don’t think I can.”
“Yes, you can. I’ll go with you. And we should probably bring her a treat.”
Of course. Her mother always tried to fix things with cookies and pie.
