“So what’s with the headdress?” Dorrie asked, dropping down beside me.
“Nothing,” I said, because it turned out I didn’t
want to discuss that, either. “I’m cold.”
“Uh-huh, sure.” She yanked the blanket from my head, then made a sound of strangled horror. “
Oy. What
have you done?”
“Gee, thanks,” I said sourly. “You’re as bad as my mom.”
“Whoa,” Tegan said. “I mean . . .
whoa.”
“I’m assuming this is your crisis?” Dorrie said.
“Actually, no.”
“Are you sure?”
“Dorrie.” Tegan swatted her. “It’s . . . cute, Addie. It’s very brave.”
Dorrie snorted. “Okay, if someone says your hairstyle is brave? You pretty much want to go back and
demand a refund.”
“Go away,” I said. I pushed at her with my feet.
“Hey!”
“You are being mean to me in my time of need, so you’re no longer allowed on the bed.” I put some
muscle into it, and off she thunked.
“I
think you broke my tailbone,” she complained.
“If your tailbone’s broken, you’ll have to sit on an inflatable doughnut.”
“I’m not sitting on an inflatable doughnut.”
“I’m just saying.”
“
I’m not being mean to you in your time of need,” Tegan interrupted. She nodded at the bed. “May I?”
“I suppose.”
Tegan took Dorrie’s original spot, and I stretched out and put my head in her lap. She stroked my hair,
gingerly at first, and then with more assurance.
“So . . . what’s going on?” she said.
I didn’t speak.
I wanted to tell them, but at the same time I didn’t. Forget my hair—the true crisis was
so much worse that I didn’t know how to get the words out without bursting into tears.
“Oh, no,” Dorrie said. Her face mirrored what she must have seen on mine. “Oh,
bubbellah.”
Tegan’s hand stilled. “Did something happen with Jeb?”
I nodded.
“Did you see him?” Dorrie asked.
I shook my head.
“Did you talk to him?”
I shook my head again.
Dorrie’s gaze shifted upward, and I felt something pass between her and Tegan. Tegan nudged my
shoulder to make me sit up.
“Addie, just tell us,” she said.
“I’m so stupid,” I whispered.
Tegan put
her hand on my thigh to say,
We’re here. It’s okay. Dorrie leaned over, resting her chin on my
knee.
“Once upon a time . . . ” she prodded.
“Once upon a time Jeb and I were still together,” I said miserably. “And I loved him, and he loved me.
And then I screwed up big-time.”
“The
Charlie Thing,” Dorrie said.
“We know,” Tegan said, giving me several comforting pats. “But that happened a week ago. What’s the
new crisis?”
“Other than your hair,” Dorrie said.
They waited for me to reply.
They waited some more.
“I wrote Jeb an e-mail,” I confessed.
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