Marianne looked toward the toddlers splashing in a big puddle by the soccer field.

“Some of it,” she said. “I’ve tried.”

“You have to read the book,” Vi said in a clipped tone. She shook her head and muttered something. Probably a curse word. Marianne noticed that Vi cursed a lot. It was the only not-proper thing about her. “Read it now.” She held out her own copy to Marianne.

“Are you serious? We’re supposed to study.”

“Reading is studying. We have all day. Read it now.” The book remained pointed at Marianne until she finally took it and turned to chapter five.

Inside its pages were highlighted sections and notes written in pencil.

For over an hour, Marianne sat with her legs pulled up on the bench, forcing herself to ignore the yells of the kids playing and the twittering of the spring birds. She blew gum bubbles and let them pop. Vi hunkered down on her own work. Eventually, Vi told her she could stop.

“Nothing is ever going to happen if you always put it off for later,” Vi said. “So that was one step.”

“One fact, one step. You should write a how-to book on school one day,” Marianne told her.

“I have bigger plans.” And Vi dove into algebra.

After another hour, Marianne begged for a break.

“It’s only been a couple hours,” Vi protested.

Marianne slapped her own cheeks and pulled down on the bags under her eyes. “Please, please, please.”

Vi sighed. “Fine. But we have a lot to do.”

Marianne put their things away. “Let’s go for a walk. A short one.”

Vi rolled her eyes but followed.

Marianne pulled out some more gum and handed one to Vi.

Vi shook her head no. She whipped out her phone and texted, falling a step or two behind Marianne every half a block and hustling to catch up.

“Ooh, the lilacs will be here in a couple weeks!” Marianne squealed.

Vi continued to text.

“Someone made a chalk mandala!” Marianne pointed it out to Vi, who looked up, said, “Cool,” and returned to her phone.

They went the perimeter of the park and returned to their bench.

“Is that Addison on there?”

“How’d you know?” Vi asked her.

“You said she was your only friend.” Marianne shrugged, worried she’d embarrass Vi by bringing up Vi’s admission that rainy day.

Vi put down her phone. “Yeah. She was. She’s gone now.” Vi waved away a fly in front of her face.

“Looks like you two are still in touch?” Marianne eyed the phone.

“For now,” Vi said. “Addison already has new friends in her new school. That’s kind of how it goes with someone like her.”

“Trust me—I know how bad it feels when a friend is moving on,” Marianne said.

“I’m not possessive or something,” Vi snapped. “She should enjoy her life.”

“Sorry!” Marianne shook her head. Vi was impossible.

“I just miss her,” Vi murmured.

“I bet,” Marianne said.

“What are they doing?” Vi gestured toward a couple of skateboarders in the parking lot across the way. “They’re trying to do a caveman but they’re not holding the nose of the board. See? That one kid has his hand halfway down.”