I wish I could tell you that everything will be fine, but loving people is risky business. Things don’t always pan out how we think they should. But I gotta think that when the risk is worth it, it’s super worth it.

Sincerely,

Miss Flora Mae

On Friday morning I wake up thinking about the letter I penned last night and how maybe I should follow my own advice. Oscar chatters at me as we walk into school, but my mind is playing the same conversation over and over again in my head.

As we walk into our classroom, we split off in different directions for our desks. “See you at break.”

I slide into my chair. Kiera’s already sitting there in front of me, concentrating on the daisy she’s doodling on her homework folder.

I open my mouth and form the words, but no sound comes out.

I clear my throat and try again.

“Hey, Kiera.” My voice sounds so weird, like I’ve just woken up or something.

I watch over her shoulder as she finishes shading in a leaf. Finally, she turns around.

I expect her to say something like, Um, yeah? Or What do you want? But she doesn’t. She just sits there and waits for me to speak.

She doesn’t look like her normal bright self. Her under-eyes are puffy, and her lips are dry and chapped.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She doesn’t look up when she quietly says, “I’d be great if I didn’t have to go home and listen to my parents fight all night again.”

I don’t really know what to say to that. Things haven’t been easy with Mom and Dad, but I’ve never felt like I couldn’t bear to go home.

“You can spend the night with me.” It’s out of my mouth before I even have a second to realize what a huge mistake I’ve made. Kiera. Spending the night. At my house. What was I thinking?

She studies me for a minute and I kind of wonder if she’s trying to give me a chance to take it back. “At your house?”

“Well, one of them. I’m at my dad’s house tonight.” Oh crud. And tonight’s my dad’s night. What if her dad has to drop her off or, even worse, what if he says she can’t spend the night?

This was a terrible idea. Asking someone to spend the night is like the highest level of friendship. You have to totally trust them. Because what if they hear you fart in your sleep? Or find out you have to cover your body in zit cream before bed every night? Or what if your parents let embarrassing stories slip? Basically, anything and everything could go wrong.

She pauses, and her eyes dart from side to side, like she’s about to cross the street. “I guess it’s better than being at home right now.”

I’m not really sure what to say to that. “Oscar will probably be there too.”