Instead, she hurried past me and headed straight for the stairs.
What immediately caught my attention was what she was wearing.
An enormous gray hoodie covered most of her body, and the hood was pulled so tightly around her face that I could barely see her cheeks.
It was ninety-two degrees outside.
“Emily,” I called after her. “Why in the world are you wearing that? It’s boiling!”
“I’m cold,” she mumbled.
She wouldn’t look at me.
That was when my mother’s instinct kicked in.
I knew my daughter.
I knew the difference between her normal quietness and the kind of silence that meant something was seriously wrong.
I followed her upstairs.
When I entered her bedroom, she was sitting on the edge of her bed with her shoulders hunched forward.
“Honey, look at me. What happened?”
“Nothing.”
The answer came too quickly.
“Emily.”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
She wasn’t.
I stepped closer.