When she came back, she didn’t say sorry. She just sat down an inch closer to Lena on the step, their shoulders almost touching.

Slowly, Bianka picked up the vape. She held it for a long moment.

Lena nodded slowly. “Fair. But I confiscate this stuff because I found my own mother dead of an overdose when I was sixteen. It was a different drug, but the same stupid, shiny little object in her hand.” She held up the vape. “So when I see you with this, I don’t see a rebellious teen. I see a body on a bathroom floor.”

Bianka laughed—a hollow, brittle sound. “Because you’re not my mom. You’re just the woman who married Dad and started acting like the warden.”