Maxine
“Hey, are you okay?” my mom asked as I popped a can of soda into a glass of ice.
“Yeah, why?” I asked, trying to sound normal but failing terribly.
“I don’t know, you’ve been quiet, lost in thought, and you’re drinking soda on a Saturday morning. What happened to maintaining a flat tummy?” my mom teased.
“Nothing, I just really wanted soda. And it’s just one day, it’s not going to ruin my flow,” I said. I had heavy boobs—at least for my age—and having a bloated belly was going to make me look like a watermelon, so I was usually very conscious about that.
“Is this about your detention? It’s just four hours and it’s not going on your record, so it’s nothing to worry about,” she said.
“I know, it’s not that. I’m fine, I promise,” I said, and my mom kissed my head.
She could be
