IT TAKES SOME convincing, but I manage to convince my mom it's in her best interest to wake up bright and early on Saturday morning, and drive her favorite daughter to work for six o'clock. And by convincing, I mean I have to promise to keep this job for at least two months and agree to do laundry every Thursday night.

Having to wash my brother's novelty boxers is totally worth the extra forty minutes of sleep. I think.

"Natalie seems nice," I yawn into my travel mug of coffee as Mom backs the Jeep out of the driveway.

"She's always been a sweetheart. I hope you thanked her for giving you this job on a whim."

My eyes roll. "Of course, Mother. You did raise me right, you know."

Mom smiles, her eyes focused on the quiet streets. "You mean I spoiled you rotten."

"Nah, Dad spoiled me rotten. You talk me how to put on mascara and walk in heels. You taught me the important stuff," I grin, nodding my mug in her direction.

She pulls the Jeep into the empty parking lot of Pauli's Diner, turning to face me. "I'm proud of you, Peyton. You've done surprisingly well this week. I've seen a big change in you. A good change."

My changes are minor compared to how much my mom has changed in these few days.

In New York, she'd always been busy with some charity board or non-profit fundraiser gala or brunch with people I didn't even know that she called friends. The most mother-daughter time we ever had was when she took me shopping with her because she needed my opinion on a dress. She never cooked for us, or baked cookies with us. Hell, she never even wore yoga pants outside of the house.

Yet here she is, sitting in our secondhand Jeep at five-forty in the morning on a Saturday morning, wearing plaid pyjama pants and no makeup, telling me she's proud of me.

She didn't even tell me that when I got my acceptance letter to NYU.

"Thanks, Mom," I sniffle. I didn't even realize I'd gotten all worked up until I spoke. With one hand, I blot under my eyes with the edge of my jacket, coming away damp with I unshed tears. The sight makes me giggle, and Mom even joins in, filling the car with her light laughter.

After a moment, she smiles at me in the dim light. "I know it isn't easy, Pey. I also know I didn't help much to make it any easier. But, thank you, for pulling through with me."

"You're welcome, Mom. I don't know," I shrug my shoulders. "It's not too bad when you look past all the plaid and flannel."

Mom chuckles. "I love you, baby girl."

"Love you too," I shoot her with a toothy grin. "Hey, about this whole 'fitting in' thing, I actually heard about this little get together one of my classmates is throwing tonight. I thought it would be a good way to get to know some people. And, I mean, Jayden did say you're a cool mom..."

Two weeks ago the thought of asking my mother permission to go to a party wouldn't have even crossed my mind. But I'm trying this new thing where I have a healthy relationship with my single parent.

Mom fixes me with a knowing look. The silence between us drags on for a few moments before she flicks the unlock button on her door. "Get to work, Peyton."

My grin brightens into the best adorable daughter expression I can manage at this ungodly hour. "So that's a yes?"

"That's a 'get your ass out of my car before I say no'."

I lean over and plant a kiss on her cheek before getting out and heading into the diner.

Three hours into my first shift at the diner and I'm finally realizing just how terrible a patron I've been in all of my years eating out.

I spent the first hour of my shift shadowing Natalie and getting into the swing of things. It wasn't much to pick up, thankfully. The hardest thing so far has been remembering how the tables are numbered.

I've been lucky so far. All of the customers I've served have been older couples and small families out for breakfast. It took me twenty minutes to master the art of pouring coffee, but my skills of balancing plates could use a bit of work.

Surprisingly, Natalie didn't fire me the first time I dropped a plate full of eggs and bacon. Or when I shattered a glass of orange juice. Or when I managed to pour a whole pot of coffee all down the front of my apron.

I'm shocked when I look up at the funky florescent clock above the counter to see that it's already nine-thirty. My shift is done at one o'clock, just after I'm told the lunch time rush starts up. I couldn't quite convince Mom to come pick me up though, which means I'm stuck walking home after. After a nice nap, and once Addison's done her lunch shift, we'll pig out and get dressed for the party tonight.

The ringing of the kitchen bell brings me back to the present.

With all the confidence I can muster, I balance the three plates of eggs, bacons, sausages and pancakes in my arms and swing around the counter, heading for one of the booths on the far side of the diner.

"Alright. We've got two poached eggs and bacon for Mom, three eggs over-easy and sausages for Dad, and a junior stack of chocolate chip pancakes for the little guy," I rhyme off, placing their order in front of them one at a time with a smile glued to my face. "Anything else I can get for you right now?"

"No, it all looks great, miss. Thank you," the mother replies warmly, chuckling softly at her son, whose already digging into his pancakes.

"Enjoy your breakfast."

I turn and make my way back to my place behind the counter. Natalie is leaning beside the register, refilling some ketchup bottles, and she smiles as I come around the side.

"You're really doing great, Peyton!" She chimes cheerfully, reminding me immensely of her daughter.

My nose crinkles. "Are you sure you're not mad about the plate... or the glass... or the coffee. I'd totally understand if you were."

"Nah," she chuckles, setting down the ketchup bottle she's holding. "Everybody has a learning curve. If it helps, your mom broke about a dozen plates in her first four hours, if memory serves. You're doing great by comparison."

I make a mental note to rub that one in Mom's face later. After she agrees to let me out of the house, of course.

"Thanks," I laugh. "I'm trying. It's actually not too bad. Yet."

"We're pretty much over the brunt of the breakfast crowd. It's mostly just coffee and baked goods until eleven-thirty-ish. You can help yourself to something to drink if you want."

I excuse myself, leaving Natalie as she moves on to refilling jars of sugar and pass through the doors into the back kitchen to get myself a glass of juice.

I honestly don't hate working at the diner as much as I had originally thought I would. Natalie is great, the customers are kind, and the other employees I've met seem incredibly nice.

The reality is, I never actually thought I would have a part-time job. I've never had to work for anything in my life, save for having to suck up to my dad every now and again if I needed something from him. Even when it came down to college choices, I'd applied for history programs because I liked the subject, not because I had any intentions of being a scholar or a museum curator or anything like that. I was a trust fund princess after all.

When I make it back out to the front counter, Natalie has finished her chore of refilling different condiment bottles and moved on to wrapping napkins around the silverware.

"So, my daughter mentioned there was a party tonight you two wanted to go to," she says once I've taken up place beside her.

"There is," I reply cautiously. "I thought it might be a fun way to get to know some of the other kids at school. But I kind of got the impression Addison doesn't go to too many parties."

"She doesn't, that I know of. Which is why I'm pretty surprised she asked." A small frown creases at Natalie's mouth, but she hides it quickly. "But it's nice to here she's finally putting herself out there a little bit more. Just make sure you two take care of each other, would you? Contrary to popular belief, some of us grown ups do know exactly what goes on at these things."

I nod my head adamantly. "Of course, Mrs. Turner. We won't let each other out of our sights. Promise."

"I believe you, Peyton. But still try to have fun."

"Well try," I laugh, just as the bell above the front door jingles as it opens and a couple of elderly ladies walk in. "I'll get this one."

"Perfect."

With a smile, I make my way around the counter and loped off to the table the two women had just sat down at, two menus in hand. Handing them both their menus, I take out my pad and pen. "Good morning, Ladies. What can I get for you this morning?"

"How was your first day, hun?" Mom asks, setting a casserole dish down on the kitchen table and taking a seat across from me.

"Not bad. Lunch was probably the worst of it, but I think I faired pretty well," I say, shrugging as I scoop a small helping of unidentifiable food onto my plate. "I only dropped two plates in all... and a glass. But I'm told I didn't come close to your record." I fix my mom with a smug grin as I hand her the spoon.

"You're so funny. I wasn't nearly as bad as Natalie might say."

"Sure you weren't," I laugh, taking a bite of the mush on my plate. My nose wrinkles the moment it hits my tastebuds, and I resist the urge to spit it out. "God, what is this crap," I mumble around my mouthful.

"It's a squash casserole, and it can't be that bad," Mom rolls her eyes, taking a bite of it herself. After a second, her face too contorts in disgust. "Okay, maybe it is."

We both laugh as she spits hers out into a napkin, and I push my chair away from the table. "You found it online, at I right?"

"It had good reviews."

While Mom clears away our plates, I open the door to our fridge, examining it for food and finding nothing of interest. "I should've stopped at Yaya's on the way home," I mumble to myself with a sigh.

"I beg your pardon?" She asks from the kitchen sink, rinsing our plates and setting them in the dish rack with a raised eyebrow.

"Nothing!"

As I close the fridge door with an innocent smile, Mom pulls a can of soup out of the cupboard. "Grab the cheese and the bread out of the fridge, would you Peyton?"

I comply, pulling out the necessary ingredients for grilled cheese, setting them on the counter by the stove. "You know I don't eat dairy, right?"

"You know there's still plenty of casserole on the table, right?" She counters with a serious don't-try-me expression on her face.

"Grilled cheese sounds fantastic, Mom," I smile sweetly.

"That's what I thought," she chuckles, busting herself with opening the can of soup and pouring it into a pot. "So, when is Addison coming over tonight?"

"In about half an hour. She's getting off in a couple of minutes and heading home to grab her stuff."

"And what time is this party at again?"

Ethan had texted me the same night he'd invited me to the party, giving me all of the details. I would be lying if I said we hadn't been texting more since then. "Around nine. Addison's mom's letting her borrow their car, so she's going to drive us. And before you start, she's not drinking."

Mom flickered her eyes humorously in my direction as she got to work on the grilled cheese. "And who exactly is throwing this party?"

I have to roll my eyes at her integration. My mom had never batted an eye when I went to parties back in New York, and those were bound to be far more crazy than some small town barn party. But her sudden concern for details makes me chuckle. "It's at Ethan Sampson's house. Actually, it's in his family's barn apparently."

"Sampson?" She repeats to herself, her lips pursing in thought. "He wouldn't be Thomas Sampson's son by chance, would he?"

"Mom, I don't ask people who their parents are. But I think it's safe to say he probably is. An old friend of yours, huh?" I ask with a cheeky grin.

"Not exactly," she says with narrowed eyes. "But we went to school together, yes. And I've been to their family farm a couple of times."

"Fun," I reply, grabbing our plates out of the dish rack and a couple of bowls out of the cupboard, and helping myself to some of our half-assed supper. "Say, maybe you should give me a list of all of your exes so I can stay away from their sons?"

I quickly dance out of the way as she aims to swat me in the arm with a spatula, cackling like a maniac.

"I'll have you know I wasn't as much of a lush as you seem to think I was, dear daughter," she quips, shooting me a glare over her shoulder.

If looks could kill.

"I love you, Mother dear," I smile, taking a bite out of my grilled cheese. "But really. The idea of hooking up with any of the spawns of your former beaus is unappealing to say the least. Think of it as a preventative measure."

Mom's cheeks turn bright red in under a minute. "Peyton Alexandra, you better not be 'hooking up' with anyone, young lady!"

I roll my eyes humorously, taking a sip of soup as I listen to her rant and rave. "Let's face it, Mom. I think you're a little late for the 'Don't Have Sex Until Your Married' speech. For either of your children, actually."

"Peyton, I mean it! Don't even think about— Wait, you don't mean either of you?! Your not telling me your brother—"

My mom's deranged ranting is cut off my the sound of the front doorbell ringing.

"Oh, Addison must be here early! I'll get it!" I call as I dart out of the kitchen before she has the opportunity to ground me until I'm thirty.

I pull open the front door to reveal Addison standing there in a warm jacket, a duffel bag hanging over her shoulder. "Hey, Addy!"

"Sorry I'm early, Mom insisted I take off a little early. Quite frankly, she seemed a little too excited about getting me out of the house on a Saturday night."

"Nah, you're just on time," I smile, closing the door behind me. "I think my Mom was just about to have a heart attack."

Addison laughs. "What did you do?"

"Told her my brother isn't the innocent little virgin she thinks he is," I say with a smug grin.

Addison's tinkling laughter follows me as I lead her to the kitchen. My mom is now sitting at the kitchen table with her soup and sandwich, and her face has faded about three shades closer to normal.

"Mom, this is Addison," I wave to my friend beside me, still dressed in her white blouse and hot pink work skirt. "Addison, this is darling mother."

Mom gave me a rye smile, before turning a softer one on Addison. "It's nice to meet you Addison. Please, call me Helen."

"Hi, Helen," Addy chirps, waving a hand at my mom. "It's nice to put a face to a name. My mom's told me a lot of stories about you two when you were in high school."

"Hopefully only the good ones," Mom chuckles, in that that only mothers seem to be able to do.

"You'll have to tell me all of them," I mock whisper. "Alright, we'll be upstairs in my room, Mom. Love you!"

"Have fun, girls. And Peyton?" She calls after us. "We're not finished with that conversation we were having earlier!"

I giggle at the mention of that conversation; the one about the lack of innocence of both of her children.

"My mom would kill me if I talked to her like that!" Addison whispers loudly as she follows me up the stairs to my bedroom.

I shrug my shoulders, opening my door and waving her inside. "Your Mom seems pretty cool to me. Besides, my mom's not actually used to mothering children. That was what the nannies were for."

"Gosh," Addison sighs as she wanders around my room in awe. "You're life was so different than ours."

"It was extra. I used to think it was cool, but it was really not. I mean, my dad was never really home, my mom didn't show us much attention, my friends weren't really my friends. Seeing how much my mom's changed in just a week, seeing how people like your mom act, I kinda see what I've been missing out on for almost eighteen years."

Addison wanders over to my accordion doo closet, pulling open the door. "You can't say you didn't enjoy the clothes though," she laughs, pawing through the skirts and tops I have hanging in there.

I'd kept a portion of my things, my bedroom furniture and most of my closet. But I'd had to put some of it into storage since we were downsizing so drastically. In Manhattan, I'd had a walk-in closet, complete with shoe racks and jewelry displays. Now I only have a small closet and a dresser, containing about a quarter of my wardrobe. I'd kept most of my skirts with me, and my favorite tops and shoes. But most of my dresses and haute fashion were still packed away.

"Oh hell no," I laugh. "The clothes are by far the best part."

Addison abandons my closet, leaving it wide open and coming over to plop herself down on my bed. "So what are you wearing tonight?" She asks cheerfully, pulling her legs up underneath herself.

My shoulders jerk in another shrug. "No idea. What do you small town folk wear to these little barn parties?"

She rolls her eyes at my mockery. "Beats me. I've never been to one."

"Well, what did you bring with you?"

She pulls her duffel bag over to her, unzipping it and riffling through it. She pulls out a wad of floral fabric, shaking it out over her lap. "Nothing fancy," she chirps, smoothing our the fabric under her hand. "But it's one of my favorites."

The article draped across her lap is another vintage floral dress, straight out of the fifties. It's a antique white, covered in dozens of small pink and blue colored flowers and little green leaves.

"It's gorgeous!" I smile, running my hands over the soft satin fabric. "You have to tell me where you get all of these amazing dresses."

Addison gives a small smile. "They were my Grandmother Pauline's. She kept them and gave me all of them just before she passed."

"Well, they're all beautiful. You can't find decent dresses like these anymore, even back in New York," I tell her, giving her arm a small squeeze of reassurance.

"Well, I've shown you mine. Now we have to find you yours!" She says brightly, bouncing back over to my closet.

"So, you really don't own any pants, do you?" She notes after a moment of searching through my clothes.

"I think I have a pair of yoga pants in one of those drawers," I wave a hand towards my dresser. "And this pair of pyjama shorts."

Addy rolls her eyes at my sad attempt at humor. She tugs a sweater off of a hanger and tosses it in my direction. "That's cute, and it'll keep you warm. Now, leather or plaid?" She quizes, turning back to my closet.

I consider my options for a moment, mentally sorting through all the possible ensembles. "Leather. The black one."

She grabs one of my many black skirts, but the only leather one I have, and tosses it at me. Getting up off of my bed, I head for my dresser and pull out a pair of black tights.

"I'll change in the bathroom, you can use my room. Back in a minute."

It doesn't take me long to change out of my shorts and hoodie, ironically enough from the Spence School.

I admire the outfit in the mirror for a minute. I tuck the front of the grey knit sweater I'm wearing into my skirt to finish it off, and smile at my reflection.

Gathering up my pyjamas, I return to my bedroom, where Addison has finished changing, and added a denim jacket over her shoulders to keep her warm.

"So why have you never been to a party before?" I ask her as I grab my makeup bag and sit myself back on my bed.

Addison laughs. "In case you haven't noticed, Peyton, I'm not exactly well liked at school. I don't care, but I do know it. I know they call me 'Mad Addy'."

I start pulling out makeup as I speak, essentially running on autopilot. "I don't get it. You're fun, you're pretty, you have great taste. Why do they not like you?"

"Because I'm not like them," she shrugs nonchalantly. "I don't like what they like, I don't act like them. You can't say it was any different back at your old school."

I don't have to consider it for a second before I realize she's right.

"It's group mentality. Either you're just like everyone else or your different. And if you're different, they don't accept you. Doesn't bug me. Eliza and you are plenty enough friends for me. I don't need popularity to be happy."

"No," I smile to myself, realizing most of what she's saying applies to me as well. "You really don't."

Yay! An update! Up next, the party. What do you think is going to happen?
Until next time, here's a lil' smiley Addison to brighten your day. (Looking for this gif low key made me wanna re-binge "Secret Circle".)

Lots of love...