Chapter 117
Maple
@EllaHartisback, TikTok
Mom pulls off the copper-red, bobbed wig and shakes out her hair.
‘That was fun, wasn’t it?’ she says, dropping onto a barstool and removing her scuffed white trainers. Apparently Mom dressed as a New York Times reporter this Halloween. ‘You know, I’m so glad you came, my Maple honey. Don’t you think our street puts on the best Halloween parade in Provo?’
I peel off my Spider-Man mask – I chose it to celebrate how I’m not scared of spiders anymore, not now I’ve survived being kidnapped, but it’s also a great way to stay incognito.
When Mom first invited me for the Halloween weekend, I assumed she had an ulterior motive – pictures of us in costume together would make great content – so I chose an outfit with a mask to ruin her plans.
But actually, Mom didn’t take one selfie, or mention social media at all.
‘I guess,’ I say, reaching for a glass and holding it under the fridge water tap. Candy always makes me thirsty. ‘And it’s cool being back here, in my old house. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to keep it with, you know …’ I feel my cheeks flush pink and wish I could put the mask back on.
‘With you all abandoning me, you mean?’ Mom says. But then she smiles. ‘It’s fine. I’m not one to hold a grudge – you know that. You’re here now, and I seem to be making a ton of money without you.’
‘You are?’
‘You know Maple, it’s amazing how many ambitious moms there are in Utah. I guess it’s in our DNA.’
‘Wait, you’re helping other moms make their kids famous?’
‘I explain the dangers to them, obviously,’ she says, like she’s offended I might think otherwise.
‘But if they’re willing to take the risk, far be it for me to judge.
Post and let post, that’s always been our motto, hasn’t it?
This way, I can cover the mortgage for when you’re ready to come home, and you don’t have to …
stick to a schedule,’ she finally chooses.
‘I suppose,’ I murmur, wondering if she’s right, or if she’s still managing to twist my thoughts. ‘You know, I’m pretty tired,’ I say, suddenly feeling like I need some distance. ‘I might head upstairs.’
‘Oh. Okay.’ Her face drops and she looks so forlorn and defeated – two very alien expressions for Mom – that my stomach lurches.
‘Or I could stay with you a bit longer,’ I hear myself say.
The familiar beam returns in an instant. ‘Oh, Maple honey, that’s so sweet. How about I get us some snacks as a thank-you? Something savory after all that candy.’
Wow. Mom never used to let me eat snacks unless they came attached to a paycheck. ‘I guess I could eat,’ I say, wondering if requesting cheese is a step too far.
‘Great!’ She beams again, then twists off the barstool and disappears into the pantry. She returns with a big bag of chips. ‘Have you tried these? They’re called Shell Shocked. Chips made from egg whites. So tasty, but also really healthy. Great name too, isn’t it? Here, try them.’
She empties the bag into a bowl and I take one. I’m not expecting much – egg whites are basically slimy water – but actually, it tastes pretty good. So I take another, and another. ‘Wow, these are crazy moreish,’ I say between mouthfuls.
‘They are, aren’t they? So moreish.’
I drink in Mom’s beaming face. Return her smile as best I can. Crunch another chip.
Then I shift my gaze.
And spot the tiny camera perched on the shelf.