“I’d be embarrassed.”
Elena nodded. “Embarrassment is a wave. It crashes, it recedes. You’re still standing. Now, what’s the best that could happen?”
Zoe sat on the floor by her mother’s feet, leaning her head against Elena’s knee. “Can we watch one?” she asked quietly.
Zoe did it. The next day, she found Liam in the art room, told him she thought his charcoal sketches were haunting, and asked him to the dance. He said yes.
“And then what?”
