“I ate that for breakfast.” Skylar grinned at her brother’s exasperated expression. “Come on. No one ever died from eating lasagna in the morning and cereal in the afternoon.”
“No, but you’ll be the death of me,” Nate muttered. He sank into the armchair next to the couch.
“So cranky. I thought you’d be flying high after your date with Kris.”
“It wasn’t a date.”
“Maybe it didn’t go as well as you’d hoped.” Skylar ignored his denial and examined him with shrewd eyes. “What did you do?”
“Why do you assumeIdid something?”
“Did you?”
“No.”Yes.“You still haven’t told me how you and Kris know each other.” It was an obvious ploy to change the topic, and it worked.
Skylar becamefascinated by the few remaining pieces of soggy cereal floating in her bowl. “I told you, we met at the movies.”
“I don’t know which is more insulting: you not coming up with a more believable story or you thinking I’m stupid enough to fall for your excuse. No one talks to strangers at the movies.” Nate’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t meet her at a nightclub, did you? Because if you have a fake ID—”
“Ugh, no!” Skylar wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like clubs.”
“How would you know unless you’ve been to one?”
She shot him a dark look. “Leave me alone and take a shower. You stink.”
Nate didn’t budge. “Where do girls meet random new friends?” He frowned, his mind flipping through the possibilities. “Beach? Mall? But if so, you wouldn’t be so reluctant to—”
“I met her at MentHer, okay?”
His frown deepened. “Is that a store?” If so, it had a stupid name.
“No.” Skylar avoided his gaze and swirled her spoon in the milk. “It’s an organization. For girls.”
“What kind of organization?” Suspicion seeped into his voice.
She mumbled something under her breath.
“I’m sure your cereal finds your answer fascinating,” Nate said dryly. “But if you want a two-way conversation, you’ll have to speak up.”
Skylar heaved a sigh that sounded annoyed, guilty, and exasperated at the same time. “It’s an organization for girls who lost their mothers.”
Nate greeted the revelation with a blank stare.
“Every girl is assigned a mentor,” Skylar rushed. “An older female who can help her with, like, girl stuff. And they have events and activities and things like movie outings and arts and crafts day. I found out about it through one of the girls at soccer camp. I only joined in June—around the same time Kris started volunteering there—and they haven’t matched me with a mentor yet, which is fine, because Kris has been acting as my de facto mentor and she’s great and I—”
“Wait. Stop.” Nate held up one hand and pinched his temple with the other. “You and Kris met through a non-profit. For girls. Who’ve lost their moms.”
“Yes?” Skylar said meekly.
“That’sthe secret you’ve been keeping from me?” He was incredulous. “Why?”
“I didn’t want you to be mad or, like, feel bad.” Skylar gave up on her cereal and set the bowl on the coffee table. Her brow pinched with guilt. “You’ve done so much since…well, you know. Since mom died. Taking care of Dad and me and everything. I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’tenough.But sometimes…” She picked at her shorts. “I dunno, I want another female to talk to.”
Nate’s heart squeezed. “You don’t have to feel guilty about that. I know I’m not—” He waved his hand in the air. “I know there are certain things you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking to your brother about.”
Skylar nodded. “Like the Great Tampon Fiasco.”
“Jesus, Sky. We promised we would never bring that up again.”