“Well,” Amara said, out of breath. Improbably, that hint of mischief that Claire loved came into her expression. “I suppose we should really give them something to talk about.” And then Amara threw back her head and howled, her voice crackling with frustration and rage but also with a kind of liberation, a gigantic wordless “fuck you” to the expectations she’d worked so hard to meet. When Amara stopped for a moment to take a breath, Claire let her own yell fill the silence, her throat arcing up and back. The other playgroup women paused to look at them. Then, one by one, they joined in too,
...more
