Out of Order Read Online Free Page B

“How’s it going?”
    My mom nods. “Okay. Busy, but a good day.” She looks at me sharply. “Are you wearing makeup?”
    I have forgotten to wash it off.
    She sighs. “It’s okay, Sophie. I suppose most girls do at your age.”
    I nod vaguely and let my mind wander while Zelia and my mom chat away about makeup, clothes and the eighties music Mom listens to. Mom is laughing and telling some story about trying to iron her hair for her prom and accidentally scorching it. If it wasn’t for the fact that Mom and I look so much alike, anyone watching would think Zelia was the daughter and I was the friend.
    Zelia grabs my arm and leans forward. “Dr. Keller, Sophie and I were wondering. If you aren’t seeing clients tonight, could we hang out in your office?”
    I blink. She’s never mentioned this idea to me.
    Mom looks taken aback. “Why can’t you hang out in Sophie’s room?”
    â€œOh, if you don’t want us to, it’s no big deal,” Zelia says. “I just thought, you know, if you weren’t using it tonight...”
    I wonder what she is up to.
    Mom frowns. “Well, I suppose that’d be okay.”
    Zelia flashes her radiant smile. “Thanks.”
    I follow Zelia through my house, out the back door and down the path to the office. The door is locked and I have to run back into the house for the key.
    Mom catches me and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Is everything okay?”
    â€œEverything’s fine,” I say, surprised.
    â€œI just thought...I don’t know.” She looks at me hard, lowering eyebrows which, like mine, are so fair you can barely see them. “You would talk to me, wouldn’t you? If something was wrong?”
    â€œSure. But nothing’s wrong. Really.”
    Mom releases my shoulder. “Okay, Sophie.”
    When I get back to Mom’s office, I don’t see Zelia. As I stand there, key in my hand, I hear her whisper.
    â€œSophie, back here.”
    She is sitting cross-legged on the damp grass behind the office, hidden from my mom’s view. Smoke curls up from the cigarette held loosely between her fingers. She holds the pack out toward me. Oddly, in this moment I remember all my mom’s talks about peer pressure and how to resist it. But there is no pressure here, no crowd of smokers, no voices urging me to just try it. Zelia doesn’t care if I smoke. If I say
no thanks
, like I always have until now, she’ll just shrug and put the cigarettes away. So I don’t know why, this time, I reach out and take one.
    She stretches out her long legs and smoothes the black mini-skirt across her lap. “Sorry to hide on you,” she says.“I was just dying for a smoke.” She leans over and lights my cigarette.
    I try to inhale and start coughing. My eyes water. “Why?” I say. “Why do you smoke?” To my horror, my voice comes out almost in a wail.
    Zelia’s eyes narrow and her voice is cold. “It’s no big deal, Sophie. You don’t have to smoke if you don’t want to.”
    I shrug, blink hard and pull myself together. “I know. I just wondered.” I take another drag from the cigarette. This time I am prepared, and I don’t cough.
    Zelia watches me. She lets smoke drift out of her mouth. As it slowly wafts upward, she inhales it through her nose. French inhaling, she calls it. She tells me that Lee taught her.
    When we finish our cigarettes, we go into my mother’s office and I flick on the lights. I don’t usually come in here. It makes me feel too weird, thinking about all those strangers talking to my mother, telling her their problems. We used to be pretty close, but I never told her about what happened with Patrice, Chloe and the others. I don’t know why exactly; I just didn’t want to talk about it.
    Her office is nice though, small and cozy. The floor is covered with thick gray