“Marion?” my mother said. She picked up the phone next to my bed. “Hello? Hi, Marion.... Yes, Halley and I were just discussing what happened.... What? Now? Okay, okay ... calm down. I’ll be right over. Sure. Fine. See you in a minute.”

She hung up the phone. “I have to go across the street for a few minutes. But this conversation is not over, understand?”

“Fine,” I said, but I knew already things would have changed by the time she got back.

Marion met her at the end of the walk, by the prickle bush, where they stood talking for a good five minutes. Actually Marion talked, standing there nervously in a mini-dress and wedge heels, chain-smoking, while my mother just listened, nodding her head. From across the street I could see Scarlett in her own window, watching them as well; I pressed my palm against my window, our special signal, but she didn’t see me.

Then my mother walked inside with Marion, shut the door, and stayed for an hour and a half. I expected to see a ripple, a shock wave shaking the house when my mother was told the news; instead, it was quiet, like the rest of the neighborhood on a Friday night. At seven the Vaughns arrived, and by eight I could smell popcorn from downstairs. The phone rang only once more, right at eight o’clock; I tried to grab it but my father answered first and Macon hung up, abruptly. A few minutes later I heard the blender whirring as my father did his part to mend fences.

At eight-fifteen Marion walked my mother to the door, standing on the stoop with her, arms crossed against her chest. My mother hugged her, then crossed back to our house, where my father and the Vaughns were already watching a movie with a lot of gunfire in it. A few minutes later she came up the stairs and knocked at my door.

When I opened it she was standing there with a bowl of popcorn and, of course, a milkshake. It was so thick with chocolate it was almost black, foaming over the edge of the glass. Her face was softer now, back to its normal state. “Peace offerings,” she said, handing them to me, and I stepped back and let her in.

“Thanks.” I took one suck off the straw in the shake but nothing budged.

“So,” she said, sitting on the edge of my bed, “why didn’t you tell me about Scarlett?”

“I couldn’t,” I said. “She didn’t want anyone to know.”

“You thought I’d be mad,” she said slowly.

“No,” I said. “I just thought you’d freak out.”

She smiled, reaching over for a handful of popcorn. “Well, to be truthful, I did.”

“She’s going to keep it, right?” I asked.

She sighed, reaching back to rub her neck. “That’s what she’s saying. Marion is still hoping she’ll change her mind and put it up for adoption. Having a baby is hard work, Halley. It will change her life forever.”

“I know.”

“I mean, of course it’s nice to have someone that’s all yours, that unconditional love, but with being a mother there are responsibilities: financial, emotional, physical. It will affect her education, her future, everything. It’s not a smart decision to take all that on now. And I’m sure that some of this is an attempt to hold on to a part of Michael, an extension of the mourning process, but a baby goes way beyond that.” She was on a roll now, her voice getting louder and smoother.

“Mom,” I pointed out, “I’m not Scarlett.”

She was taking a breath, readying herself for another point, but now she stopped, sighing. “I know you’re not, honey. It’s just frustrating to me because I can see what a mistake she’s making.”

“She doesn’t think it’s a mistake.”

“Not now, no. But she will, later. When she’s tied down to a baby and you and all her other friends are going off to college, traveling abroad, living other lives.”

“I don’t want to go abroad,” I said quietly, taking a handful of popcorn.

“My point is,” she said, putting her arm around my shoulder, “that you have an entire life ahead of you, and so does Scarlett. You’re too young to take on anyone else’s.”

From downstairs there was a hail of movie gunfire, then my father’s chuckling. Another Friday night, at home with the Vaughns. My life before Macon.

“So, about what happened today,” she said, but she’d lost the fire, the anger that had brought her up here earlier, ready to draw and quarter me. “We can’t just let this go, honey. Your punishment will have to stand, even if you thought you were helping Scarlett.”

“I know,” I said. But it was clear; by the pure fact of not being pregnant, I’d escaped the worst of her wrath. Scarlett had saved me, again.

She stood up, brushing off her slacks. I could see her at Scarlett’s kitchen table, a place that I considered mine, negotiating Marion and Scarlett to some kind of truce. My mother was good at all kinds of peace except my own.

“Why don’t you come down and watch the movie?” she said. “The Vaughns haven’t seen you for so long. Clara thinks you’re just fabulous.”

“Clara’s five, Mom,” I said. I tried another sip of the shake, then gave up and stuck it on my bedside table.

“I know.” She stood at my open door, leaning against the frame. “Well, you know. If you change your mind.”

“Okay.”

She started to leave, then stopped in the doorway and said in a low voice, “Marion says that boy you were with is named Macon. She says he’s your boyfriend.”