Have you checked out my contemporary YA, The Art of Being Indifferent, yet? Drew and Posey's story was a labor of love for me, after a long and painful journey into the world of foster parenting....
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. It felt like someone had poked a hole in my lungs, and I couldn’t fill them back up. The whole backdrop of the school, and the kids getting into their cars, and the auditorium and trees behind her all blurred. The only thing I could see clearly was my mother.
Right in front of me, after seven years.
“Do you recognize me, baby?” she asked. Her voice was rougher, like she’d been smoking a few packs a day for years. Which she probably had. “It’s me. Mama.”
Drew sucked in a sharp breath, and his grip around my waist tightened. “We should go.”
My mom shot him a narrow-eyed look that toed the line between annoyed and flirtatious. “My girl’s got a boyfriend. Good for you.”
I still didn’t say anything. Words—and reasonable thinking—eluded me.
“Po,” Drew said, his voice more insistent. He took my arm. “I think we should go. Seriously.”
“Wait.” I tugged my arm away and stepped toward my mom. “What... what are you doing here?”
She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket andshook one out. Her hands shook when she lit it. She caught me staring at them, and turned to blow smoke over her shoulder. “Sorry. I’m nervous to see you.”
“Why are you here?” My voice sounded different. Jagged, like I needed a cough drop, a kick in the head, or something. “How did you find me?”
“It wasn’t that hard to find you. Your high school was listed online.” She sucked on her cigarette, then flicked the ashes on the ground. “And since you blocked me, I decided to come find you for myself.”
Drew eyeballed her belly. “You sure smoking is good for your baby?”
I blinked. “Drew... this is my, um, mom. Celeste.”