Free Infinite in Between by Carolyn Mackler Page B

used to be Whitney’s best friend, but they didn’t talk anymore. Or maybe they were talking again. It was exhausting to keep it all straight.
    â€œThat sounds cool,” Zoe said, sitting on the piano bench. She definitely didn’t want to be stuck at the mall with Whitney and her friends.
    â€œMy mom is driving us. It’ll be me and Laurel and maybe Kyra if she’s talking to me tomorrow.” Whitney giggled. “We can also hang out, try on bikinis. Can you believe it’s almost summer?”
    Zoe scratched at a pimple on her arm. She’d been trying on a bikini in London when Sierra flipped out and screamed at her. That was what had started all of this. Or maybe not. Maybe things were going to fall apart no matter what.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Zoe said. “I’m busy tomorrow night. Thanks for asking.”
    â€œThat’s okay,” Whitney said. “I just thought I’d ask. Wish me luck with the dress search.”
    After they hung up, Zoe played a little Chopin on the piano. She didn’t want to face Aunt Jane. She didn’t want a thing.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with helping her shop for dresses?” Aunt Jane asked over dinner. “It’ll be fun. If you want, I can drive you separately and wait at that bookstore.”
    â€œIt’s just . . .” Zoe served herself more mac and cheese. “I don’t feel like it.”
    â€œThe girl who called you . . . Whitney? Did you say her last name is Montaine?”
    â€œYeah . . . why?”
    Aunt Jane nodded. “Her dad is a chemistry professor at the college. People say he’s brilliant.”
    â€œOf course he’s brilliant,” Zoe said. “Whitney’s perfect.”
    â€œI doubt that. Besides, look at your mom. People probably think that about you, too.”
    Zoe shook her head.
    â€œWhat? You don’t think so?”
    Ever since Christmas break, Zoe’s face was disgusting with zits. It was almost as bad as that guy James, the one who used to sit nextto her on the bus last fall. She never saw him anymore. He probably got his license and was driving to school now.
    â€œPeople look at me and think what happened ? I don’t look anything like my mom.”
    Aunt Jane shook her head. “You’re so pretty, Zoe. You don’t see that? You’ve got a Laybourne chin and those adorable freckles.”
    Zoe rolled her eyes. “All everyone cares about is asking how my mom is and whether she was in rehab. I never know what to tell them.”
    â€œWhat about the truth?”
    â€œYeah, right.”
    Aunt Jane wiped her lips with a napkin. “Here’s the deal. You go with those girls to the mall tomorrow or you go to Al-Anon. There’s a meeting downtown at seven. I’ll drive you.”
    Zoe’s stomach started churning. She wished she hadn’t eaten so much mac and cheese.
    â€œI know it’s tough love, but you’re free-floating,” Aunt Jane said. “We need to start grounding you.”
    The next evening Zoe zipped up her raincoat and texted Aunt Jane that she was going with option two.
    By the time she got downtown, the rain had stopped. She sidestepped a puddle and wandered into a café called Bean. She sipped hot chocolate and leaned against the brick wall. A few people looked over at her. Most people in Hankinson knew who she was by this point. Now and then people posted photos of her around town. Zoe put on some music and pulled on her headphones.
    A little before seven she made her way to the church. But as soonas she got to the gray metal door, she froze. No way could she do this. Maybe it was anonymous for most people, but if word got out that Sierra Laybourne’s daughter was at a support group for families of alcoholics, the media would flip out. Max would murder her.
    â€œHey . . . Zoe, right?”
    Zoe spun around, her heart racing. Oh no, no, no. It was a girl from her global studies class.