Not in a literal, physical sense. But she sent a letter. It was addressed just to Arden, and her father hand-delivered it while she was sitting in her room doing homework on Monday after rehearsal. “No,” Arden said when he handed it to her. “What is this? No.” “Your mother asked me to make sure you got this.” “And what, you just do everything she tells you now?” “I think doing this particular thing makes sense,” Arden’s father said. “You won’t take her calls. You don’t respond to her e-mails. I think you should hear her out.” “Do you know what she says in here?” Arden asked, weighing the unopened envelope. “I have a pretty good idea.” Arden gave an impatient snort. “I don’t have time for this. There’s a huge math test tomorrow that I’ve barely studied for, and I’m supposed to call Chris in twenty minutes, and Naomi is freaking out over some costuming thing, and I can’t rearrange my entire life just because Mom has written a letter.” “Fine,”
What do You think about Tonight The Streets Are Ours?
