Bethany Mangle - All the Right Reasons

Bethany Mangle

All the Right Reasons

PREPPED

MARGARET K. McELDERRY BOOKS

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Childrens Publishing Division

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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the authors imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Text 2022 by Bethany Mangle

Jacket illustration 2022 by Isa Indra Permana

Jacket design by Rebecca Syracuse 2022 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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Interior design by Rebecca Syracuse.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Mangle, Bethany, author.

Title: All the right reasons / Bethany Mangle.

Description: First edition. | New York : Margaret K. McElderry Books, [2022] | Audience: Ages 14 up | Audience: Grades 10-12 | Summary: As cast members of a reality dating show for single parent families Cara Hawn and her mother go to Key West where Cara meets Connor and now she must juggle her growing feelings while helping her mom pick a bachelor they both love.

Identifiers: LCCN 2021031504 (print) | LCCN 2021031505 (ebook) | ISBN 9781534499034 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781534499041 (paperback) | ISBN 9781534499058 (ebook)

Subjects: CYAC: Dating (Social customs)--Fiction. | Reality television programs--Fiction. | Mothers and daughters--Fiction. | Single-parent families--Fiction. | Love--Fiction.

Classification: LCC PZ7.1.M364675 All 2022 (print) | LCC PZ7.1.M364675 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]--dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021031504

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021031505

To James, my second true love after mozzarella cheese.

W eve been dropped by so many family counselors that I pack snacks for the long drive out to the last therapist willing to referee my parents without demanding hazard pay. I nibble the edge of a homemade potato chip while Mom mutters under her breath, rehearsing whatever opening speech she wants to make.

Our version of family therapy is a lot like court, except for the ways that count. No matter how much Dr. Porter agrees with our side, she cant bang a gavel and fix it. There are no damages hereonly damage.

Im going to scream if he keeps interrupting me again, Mom mutters, her hand drifting to the envelope tucked beside her, as though it might vanish if she put it in the back seat.

I let another chip sit on my tongue and turn soggy while I think about what happened at last months session. It feels like Im trapped in some inescapable time loop where it always goes wrong regardless of what I do. Im sorry.

Mom stares ahead with half-seeing eyes, her breath held. The car jerks a fraction as she turns her head to peer at me sidelong. Did you say something?

No. I resume staring out the window, tracking the exits, the towns where Mom and I could start over, if only. If. If. If. The two little letters that have dominated our dinnertime conversations and kept Mom awake at night for weeks, poring over old files and free legal websites.

Are you okay? I ask as we turn onto the street of the therapists office. I keep thinking if I make enough of these openings for her, shell eventually tell me the truth. But instead, Im just full of holes.

Of course, Mom says, pitching her voice higher and smiling automatically, her lips like a curtain drawn along a track. This stuff is never easy. Well work it out.

Id believe in her optimism more if I didnt often hear the involuntary choke of a stifled sob over the sound of the shower or see the gleam of concealer beneath her eyes in the harsh lighting of the kitchen.

She accelerates a little to reach the next open parking spot. Like usual, weve arrived well ahead of Dad and LeAnne, who insists on lording over my mother that she can attend now that shes officially married into the family. Mom opens her door and steps out before I can think of a response.

I follow her inside and hover over her shoulder until Dr. Porter waves us into her office. Unlike the dated waiting room, this room is modern and polished, with glass-top tables and plush carpet that gives away exactly the kind of reputation we have hereI look down at the imprint of where one of the chairs used to be, noting the increased distance between Mom and Dads usual seats.

Dad and LeAnne arrive five minutes late, which is ten minutes earlier than usual, I guess. He takes off his ball cap and sets it on the table, nodding to Dr. Porter, whose ears move slightly when she clenches her jaw. Hey, Doc. Sorry. Gym was busy. We had to close late.

You could just ask people to leave, Mom suggests.

Dr. Porter taps her pen on the top of her knee. Nice to see all of you again as well. Now, I know that last session there was some discussion about selling Julias half of the gym. Julia, do you want to open today?

Discussion is a nice way to phrase it. Its not like Dad was finger-in-face screaming at Mom while she batted him in the chest with a copy of their joint owners contract. No, that would be ridiculous.

To my left, Mom takes a deep breath and exhales through her nose. She fixes her gaze on Dad. I understand that you dont want me to sell my stake to any random person, but dont you think its a little strict to require mutual approval? That couple who was interested before would have done a great job, and they had a lot of business experience.

You agreed to the terms when we bought the gym to begin with, Dad retorts, holding up a hand when Mom tries to protest.

Rick, its Julias turn to speak, Dr. Porter reminds him.

She was finished.

No, I wasnt. You cut me off. Mom pulls out the envelope she stuffed to bursting this afternoon. I have another solution. A compromise. You could just buy out my half and take full ownership. That way, it wouldnt matter about the mutual approval clause.

LeAnne scoffs, then covers her mouth and coughs when we look over.

If I wanted full ownership, I would have suggested that already.

Mom puts a knee down to support herself as she spreads the paperwork out onto the coffee table in a disorganized jumble. But look at it. Ive already done the math. She points to some figure, her hand shaking. If you just break it up into payments, it wouldnt even be that much per month.

Dad stands and gestures at the documents, his shadow falling over Mom. Im not just going to change all my personal plans because you realized that you cant manage your money. You knew all along that we had a prenup.

Dont act like youd be doing any better in my shoes without your rental property. We didnt all get college funds so packed that we had money left