I snuggle against it now, a little worn, a little frayed, but smelling like home. Then I remember the excuse I used to escape to my room, and pull my algebra text out of my knapsack. Open it to a random page, prop myself up on my elbows, and let the numbers and letters drift into random swirls in front of my eyes.

I feel... different. And all through supper I was sure they’d notice... see it in my eyes, or the way I walked, or... I don’t know. Just something. It felt like it was written in big red letters on my forehead. But mom was oblivious, and dad -- well, I didn’t expect dad to notice, did I? Probably not. He doesn’t notice when I dye my hair, never mind something as monumental as losing my virginity.

I lost my virginity. To Justin.

This is, like, huge.

“Daphne?”

I glance up to see mom leaning in the open doorway. She’s totally not supposed to just walk in. I open my mouth to protest this distressing lack of respect for my privacy.

“I knocked, but you didn’t answer,” she says.

Oh.

She’s wearing earrings. Not the gold hoops that she normally wears to the office, but dangling teardrop things. Her fitted jacket has been discarded for a soft cashmere sweater, and she looks feminine and pretty and I can’t remember the last time I noticed that she actually dresses up for dinner.

“Daphne, sweetie? Are you feeling all right?”

She crosses the room, and a warm hand presses against my forehead.

“Mom, I never get a fever. Remember that time I got stung by bees at camp and my leg blew up to, like, twice it’s size and it was all infected with that green goop? No fever.”

“I remember getting the phone call from your counsellor telling me that you were demanding extra dessert as compensation for your pain.” Mom brushes the hair out of my eyes. “I guess checking is just a mom thing.”

She leans over me, and I have a moment of panic. She’ll know. But I threw up hours ago, and that was just nervousness. And Justin was cool enough to let me use his toothbrush -- though I’m sure he threw it out as soon as I left -- and his mouthwash, and he was totally understanding about the whole thing. And since then I’ve brushed my teeth twice, and eaten supper. And how would smelling vomit -- a smell which is completely not there anyway because I’ve brushed my teeth -- immediately lead mom to know that ohmygod I lost my virginity?

I shake my head and brush her hand away. “I’m fine, mom. Just tired. And I have a lot of homework to do, so...” I motion toward the door as subtly as I can. I just can’t deal with this. I just can’t. I mean, mom is the last person I want to talk to about this.

“Is Glenn coming over to study with you?”

Speak of the devil. I look back at the open textbook. If x equals 31, then y equals...

“Daphne?”

I shrug. “I don’t think so.”

I feel the press of her body on the bed as she sits down, and smell the musky scent of her perfume. “Is something wrong?”

Again, I shrug. “No. I’m just not really into Glenn anymore.”

“You know that you can talk to me about anything,” she says. And I recognize that voice. That’s her doctor voice. The soothing voice that she uses with her patients. It used to work on me when I was a kid, but I'm not a kid anymore.

“Geez mom, it’s not like I love him or anything. We were just dating, that’s all.”

I can feel her hesitate, like a physical thing. Like a big dark cloud pushing toward me. She’s going to ask me. Just come right out and ask me, and what do I say? Don’t worry Mom, I used protection, and anyway, the guy that fucked me is gay. Yeah, that’ll go over real well.

Then her hand squeezes my shoulder, and she gets up from the bed. Thank God. “All right. I’ll leave you to your homework,” she says.

She gets all the way to the doorway before she pauses. “And Daphne?” She waits until I look up before continuing. “If you’re going to work out those algebra problems, you’re going to need a pencil.”