“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, then pulled back and looked at her. “I’ll be honest with you—I don’t like it when you go out to see him. Especially alone; I’d rather be with you.” He hesitated. “But I trust you. I promise.” He shrugged. “I’m just the stereotypical jealous boyfriend, I guess.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” Laurel said, pushing up on her toes for a kiss. “But I’m just going to talk.” She wrinkled her nose. “And clean. I should at least air out the house; no one’s been inside it for months.”

“Are you going to drive?”

“Well, I was going to fly,” she said playfully, pointing to her back, “but apparently it doesn’t actually work that way.”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay,” Laurel said, not sure where he was going with this. “Yes, I’m going to drive.”

David’s face was tight. “What if they follow you?”

Laurel shook her head. “I can’t imagine they would. I mean, it’s daylight, for one thing. And its almost all highway. And really, if they followed me all the way to the land, they’d have a rude surprise waiting for them.”

“That’s true,” David said, his brow furrowed.

“I’ll be careful,” Laurel promised. “I’m protected here, and I won’t stop until I get there.”

David pulled her close. “I’m sorry I worry so much,” he said. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” He paused. “I don’t suppose you’d consider taking the…um…thing Klea gave us?”

“No,” Laurel said sharply. “That’s enough. Out!” she said, shooing him toward the front door. “Out!”

“Okay, okay,” David said, laughing. “I’m leaving.”

Laurel grinned and pulled him close for a kiss. “Bye,” she whispered. He slipped out the door and she locked it behind him.

“I didn’t think I actually had to tell you, no sleepovers with David. I thought that rule was pretty obvious.”

Laurel jumped, then turned to look up at her mother leaning over the banister. “Sorry. We fell asleep watching the movie. Nothing happened.”

Her mom laughed. “Your hair got that way just from sleeping?”

Laurel’s fatigue and stress rolled together with the mental picture of how she must look, and suddenly everything seemed funny. She laughed, then snorted, and laughed harder. She tried in vain to stifle her giggles.

Her mom came the rest of the way down the stairs, her expression halfway between exasperation and amusement.

“I must look so bad,” Laurel said, running her fingers through her hair. It was still a little crunchy from the hair spray she’d decided to use last night.

“Let’s just say it’s not your finest moment.”

Laurel sighed and opened the fridge for a soda. “We really did just fall asleep.”

“I know,” her mom said with a smile. She busied herself crushing chewable vitamin tablets with a mini mortar and pestle. “I came down to check on you at two.” She sprinkled the vitamin powder on the soil around the African violets—a trick she’d learned years ago from a man who grew marijuana indoors, ironically. Laurel watched her mom and realized that neither of them had said anything awkward or mean. At least not yet. For a few minutes everything seemed normal. Laurel didn’t know whether to enjoy it while it lasted or lament the fact that it happened so rarely.

“Sorry,” Laurel said again. “I’ll make sure to kick him out next time.”

“Please do,” her mom said teasingly.

They both turned when they heard her dad whistling as he came down the stairs. He greeted them both and dropped a kiss on his wife’s cheek in exchange for a cup of coffee.

“Are you guys both working today?” Laurel asked.

“Is it Saturday?” her mom said wryly.

“No rest for the wicked,” her dad said with a grin. He looked at her mom. “And we are very, very wicked.” They laughed and for a moment Laurel felt like they had gone back in time to before she blossomed last year. Before anything was weird; back when they were normal.

Her smile melted away when she realized her dad was studying her with a strange look. “What?” she said as her dad walked over.

“What happened to your blossom?” her dad asked, concerned. “You’re missing petals!”

The last thing Laurel wanted this morning was a family discussion about her blossom. “They just fall out sometimes,” she said. “Tying them down every day isn’t super good for them. I was wondering—”

“Do you need to stay home from school when you bloom so this doesn’t happen?” her dad asked, interrupting her.

Laurel saw her mom’s eyes widen.

“No, of course not,” Laurel protested. “I’ve totally got this under control. It’s fine.”

“I guess you would know,” he said reluctantly. He went back to sipping his coffee, but he studied her over the rim of his mug.

“Since you guys will be at work,” Laurel said, pulling the conversation back on track, “do you mind if I go out to the land?”

Her mom gave her a sidelong look. “How come?” she asked.

“I need to do some cleaning,” Laurel said, trying to hold a neutral face. “When I came back from…when I was there in August the place looked pretty bad. I really should go fix it up so some hobo doesn’t decide to live there,” she said, laughing awkwardly.