Lila
I had just finished making dinner when I heard the front door creak open. I knew it was my mother; she usually got home from work around this time.
She stormed into the kitchen and fixed me with a fierce glare. “Do you want to tell me something?” Her voice dripped with anger.
I stared at her, bewildered. What could I possibly need to tell her? There was nothing important on my mind.
“Um?” was all I managed to stammer.
My mother shifted her stance, hands planted firmly on her hips. “Your friend is having a party on Saturday?” she emphasized the word "friend," as if it were a dirty word.
Suddenly, it dawned on me that Nina's mother must have called mine and had a talk about the party. Judging by my mother’s demeanor, it was clear that the conversation hadn’t gone well.
“Um, yea
