1642734778_punk-57-pdf

I pick up the small duffel and hear the clank of a few cans inside. Well, I
guess it’s better than it was. I don’t want to alert my family when I take it
downstairs, so I’ve wrapped the cans in some clothes, hoping to drown out
the sound.
Tonight is my final little foray, and Misha is helping. Only this time, I
have no guilt about it. We’re rebels with a reason.
Okay, a little reason, at least.
Checking myself in the mirror one last time, I grab the bag and hear the
doorbell ring, smiling. He’s here.
Leaving my room, I lift the hem of my dress as I step down the stairs.
My mom and sister are camped out in the living room, huddled around a
bowl of popcorn and scary movies tonight, but really, they’re just waiting to
see Misha again.
When I brought him home last week, my mom immediately liked him.
A lot. Especially with our history. She knows how much Misha means to
me, and to finally meet him was incredible.