That I’d embarrass her?
For the first time, Dad’s ridiculous plan stopped feeling completely ridiculous.
An hour later, my parents were ready to leave.
Mom hugged me.
Dad squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll call tonight.”
I whispered, “Please tell me you brought normal clothes.”
He smiled. “In the van.”
I rolled my eyes.
Then Mom hugged Chloe. “It was lovely meeting you.”
Chloe gave her a stiff half hug. “Yeah. You too.”
Dad shook Greg’s hand. This time, Greg didn’t hesitate.
That mattered too.
As soon as my parents left, Chloe shut the door.
Then she turned to me. “You didn’t tell me.”
My stomach tightened. “Tell you what?”
She gestured toward the hallway. “About your parents.”
“What about them?”
She looked uncomfortable.
“Nothing.”
“No. You said I didn’t tell you something.”
She sat down. “I just thought…”
“What?”
“From your pictures, I thought your family was kind of…”
She stopped.
“Kind of what?”
“Well-off.”
There it was.
“Why does that matter?”
“It doesn’t.”
“Then why have you acted weird all day?”
Her face tightened. “I haven’t.”
“You have.”
She crossed her arms. “So have you.”
“My parents showed up looking like extras from a disaster movie. I have a reason.”
She almost smiled.
Then she said, “I just don’t like feeling misled.”
That made me laugh. “Who misled you?”
“You made it sound like that car was yours.”
“It is.”
She blinked. “What?”
“The car in my pictures. It’s mine.”
Her expression changed. “And my parents aren’t poor.”
Silence.
“My dad owns three businesses. My mom is an accountant.”
Chloe stared at me. “Wait. Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“And the van?”
“My uncle’s.”
“The garbage bags?”
I looked at them. “Apparently my mother’s commitment to performance art.”
Chloe laughed. Not a polite laugh. A relieved one. That was what got me.
“Oh my God,” she said. “You scared me.”
I went still. “Why?”
She immediately realized what she’d said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Like what?”
She looked away.
I stepped closer. “Why would my parents being poor scare you?”
“It wouldn’t.”
“Then what were you scared of?”
She rubbed her palms against her jeans. “I just didn’t want things to get awkward.”
“With what?”
“Money.”
I almost laughed. “You’ve spent two months asking me about money.”
“Because I thought we had similar backgrounds.”
“And if we didn’t?”
“It’s just easier.”
“What’s easier?”
“When people can afford the same things.”
I stared at her. She kept going.
