Page 66 of Furious

“She what?”

My mother winces. “Like I said, we didn’t want you to know. Another mistake, because it seems you’ve been walking around with the idea that we ‘tossed Max away.’”

Now it’s my turn to wince, as my words from our fight come back to haunt me. “Dad said you didn’t,” I remember, though I was too caught up to listen at the time.

“We gave her a choice. Get clean, get it together. We would help her, give her any support or resources she needed. But we told her that we had another daughter to think of, and that we couldn’t allow her to put you in danger with her choices. You thought the world of your big sister, and we wanted that for you, but we were terrified you’d be with Max some night, and things would go bad. So we told her she had to pick: the track she was on, or—”

“Me,” I offer around the pound of gravel in my throat.

“No,” Mom insists. “All of us. Her family. But she wasn’t in a place to make that commitment, and … and you know what happened after that.”

I don’t know what to do with this, where to put this information. Max was never kicked out. She had a choice. She told me to take care of her bike, all the while knowing that she wasn’t coming back for it, or for me. Whatever I thought I felt on the sidewalk outside of her apartment, it’s nothing compared to this: not just losing my sister, but this idea of a sister I never really had. “I must’ve looked so fucking stupid, telling her I came to bring her home,” I realize aloud.

“Listen to me.” My mother turns on the daybed to face me for the first time. “Maybe Max will come home one day. Or maybe we’ll all have a relationship from afar. I have to believe we will, because she’s my daughter, and I love her. But that’s not your responsibility, El. And if we’re comparing mistakes—which, yes, you certainly made a few—then your dad and I made the same mistakes we made with Max all over again, holding on to you so tightly. You’re a good kid, but before that, you’re my daughter, and I love you, and all I ever want for you is to be okay.”

I sink into my mom and she wraps her arms around me; it’s a little stiff with lack of practice, but I could stay here forever instead of facing the mess I’ve made.

Unfortunately, that’s not a choice I can make.

“I fucked up with JoJo,” I mumble into her shoulder. “A lot. And with Zaynah.”

“Well. Now you have the chance to fix things.”

I suppose that’s true. “So am I not grounded?” I sniff.

“Oh, El. You are absolutely grounded. And you will not be driving anything with an engine for some time.”

“So what, I’m just walking to school in the fall?”

She hugs me a little closer. “Have you considered a bicycle?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

JoJo

I shouldn’t be surprised that Dad is waiting for me on the porch when I get home late on Sunday night. It’s like a repeat of the scene on Saturday night—God, how was the race with Riley only a day ago?—when I brought the Hornet home, but this time, as soon as I’m out of the car, he leaps off the porch and pulls me into a hug.

“I was so worried,” he whispers into my hair. “Thank you for coming home.”

“Of course, Dad,” I say back, hugging him hard. Behind me, I hear El’s parents’ car pulling away, but I don’t look back. I am so done with her, her family, and that entire mess.

“Let’s go inside and talk about this,” Dad says, letting me go at last. He swipes at his eyes.

Although he’s not really an angry guy, I’m a bit surprised that he just seems relieved I’m home, not angry that I ran away.

It helps maybe that I texted him back on the long, awful, awkward car ride home with El and her parents. I answered the one voice message he left me, where he just said, in heartbreakingly halting tones: “JoJo. Not sure where you went … but I’m sorry. Please come back. We can talk. And … just. I’m sorry.”

His message brought tears to my eyes, and I had sent him a message back, saying I would be there soon.

I follow Dad up the steps and into Jolene’s house, throwing my small bag by the door. I wanted to burn every part of it that had to do with Eliana Blum, but even I knew that was just being dramatic.

Dad pours a whiskey and Coke and then takes a second glass out of the cabinet, fixing me a drink as well.

“Not a normal thing,” he says, stirring the drinks. “But just for tonight, to take the edge off. Now, tell me what happened?”

We sit down at the kitchen table, and Dad gently pushes aside a photo album I’d not seen since we moved. It’s the one of his and Mom’s wedding pictures, and there’s a photo of them smiling in their wedding clothes on the cover.

I cup my own drink between my hands and exhale. It’s only been about twenty-four hours since Dad’s and my last fight, but it feels like an age. The story of everything that’s happened since then comes pouring out of me—about El looking for Max, and El and I growing closer, and how we talked to Riley, and how we eventually learned Max was in Richmond. I take a long sip of my drink, letting it soothe my nerves just a bit.