Better Than Perfect by Melissa Kantor

Sofia whispered. She put down the bag of cream she’d been holding and wrapped her arms around me.
    I hugged her back for a long minute, then stepped away. “I’m okay,” I said, even though she hadn’t asked. Suddenly I didn’t want sympathy and I didn’t want to be hugged. “They’re not sure what happened. They won’t know until . . . I don’t know when, actually.” As I realized I had no idea how they were going to figure out what had happened with my mom, I gave a weird laugh, almost like a bark. Were they just going to ask her? Mrs. Newman, you were found passed out on the floor of your bathroom. Did you mean to take too many pills, or was it an accident?
    Sofia watched me with an odd look on her face, waiting for me to explain, but all I said was, “I just . . . I don’t want to go home.”
    â€œNo, of course not.” She started to untie her apron. “We’ll go to my house.”
    â€œLet’s go, Taylor,” said a thin guy with a beard carrying another tray of cream puffs. “This is no time to socialize.”
    â€œFrank, I have to go,” said Sofia, pulling off her hairnet. “I have an emergency.”
    â€œYou’re not going anywhere, Taylor,” said the guy, carefully placing the tray down. “We’ve got two hundred people for dinner. Two seatings. You’re here until midnight.”
    He sounded harsh, but it didn’t seem to frighten Sofia. “Frank, I’m serious. I have to go.”
    Frank pushed the tray of pastry shells farther back on the table and turned to face us. Now I could see why she wasn’t scared of him. He was a big guy and he had a beard, but he probably wasn’t much older than we were.
    â€œLook, Taylor, I want to help you and, you know”—he glanced at me—“your friend. But I can’t let you go. Seriously. Mitch will have my ass.”
    â€œFrank—” Sofia started.
    But I interrupted her. “Sofia, it’s okay. Really. I’ll just . . . I’ll wait for you.”
    â€œJuliet, that’s like”—she checked a clock on the wall—“five hours.”
    â€œIt’s fine,” I said.
    â€œDo you want to go home and wait for me? I’ll give you my keys. My mom will be there.” She turned to get her bag.
    â€œNo!” I grabbed her arm, my voice sharper than I’d meant it to be. I didn’t want to sit with Sofia’s mother. Suddenly, all I wanted was to be by myself.
    â€œJuliet, what are you going to do until midnight?” she asked, so anxious I almost thought she was about to start crying.
    Sofia’s being upset only made me more calm. “I’ll be fine.”
    â€œDo you want to just stay here? They’ll never notice you. There’s like a thousand members here tonight. You could say you’re a guest of the Robinsons.”
    â€œTaylor,” snapped Frank, “we’ve got to get this tray finished. Let’s go.”
    Sofia ignored him. “Seriously. Just stay here.”
    â€œSure,” I said, but I couldn’t really imagine saying I was a guest of Jason’s family when I wasn’t. Grace and Mark weren’t chill about things like that. If I called and told them where I was, they’d probably let me have whatever I wanted. But they wouldn’t like it if I started signing their names for stuff without asking.
    â€œJust go to the library and take a book or something, okay? I’ll call you as soon as I can.” She hugged me again. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered in my ear.
    I hugged her back, then recrossed the kitchen, walked back down the long, empty corridor, and stepped outside into the sticky summer evening. Even though my phone was in my pocket, I’d missed three calls, one from my aunt Kathy and two from my dad. They’d both texted me, too. My aunt’s text said she was taking the red-eye