Had Shawna objectively assessed the tense exchange of words with her mother since leaving camp, she would have been forced to admit to the series of lies on her part. One of them was insisting she wasn't hungry. Now, with a long ride home ahead of her, Shawna wished she had skipped the hunger strike and vented her stubbornness some other way.
Her mother had invited her to talk about what happened last night, and she had coldly refused. In reality, there was a part of Shawna that yearned to tell her mother everything: her clever escape from the cabin; the halting experiment with marijuana and her stupidity at wasting most of a joint; the approval she felt from Destiny; the raw excitement, the rush of imminent danger, and the ultimate relief she sensed in the space of only a few minutes. These were the things she would tell a trusted friend about last night. Shawna wanted her mom to be a friend with whom she could share her experience without fear of judgment. But she was afraid her mom would look past the experience to deal with the wrong like a mother, not like a friend. So Shawna kept it all inside.
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