There are all kinds of dilemmas today. There are sibling rivalries, questions about home-brewed cleaning supplies, a woman who’s gay and trying to figure out how best to tell her family, parents having trouble communicating with their kids, a scandal involving a recipe thief at the county fair, someone who borrowed money from a friend and can’t pay it back, and many, many more. But the letter that strikes me most is all about friendship. And I definitely have an answer.

Dear Miss Flora Mae,

Do you ever feel like you can see the end coming? Not the end of the world. I mean, the end of a relationship. I’ve been through a ton with my best friend, but I’ve felt like they were pushing me further and further away. At first, I made excuses for them. I thought maybe they were going through a bad time, but these days I can barely remember why our friendship is worth saving. What do I do? Confront them? Break it off? Let fate decide?

Sincerely,

High & Dry

I take the letter home with me and send the rest off to Miss Flora Mae.

Monday is basically the best Monday to ever Monday, because it’s the last Monday of the school year. No more home-work. And no forced conversation between Kiera and Oscar or awkward stuttering in front of Greg to ruin my day.

When I get home, Mom is rushing around the house and there are hangers everywhere. Not only that, but the ironing board is unfolded in the middle of the kitchen with Cheese sitting on top like we’re his royal subjects and all this chaos is his kingdom. And I didn’t even know we owned an iron!

“Mom?”

“In here!” she shouts back.

I follow her voice to her bedroom, which is only like half a bedroom, really, because she’s left Dad’s side totally untouched. Even in all this mess, none of her wardrobe is crossing the invisible boundary dividing his side of the room from hers.

“What are you doing? I thought you didn’t get off work for another hour.”

She rushes out of her bathroom, her hair half-curled and her robe undone, revealing an old pair of boxer shorts and a grubby old blood-drive T-shirt.

“My last patient canceled. And . . . I’ve got a date!” she says, her voice raising a few octaves too high.

“Tonight?” Seriously? Why can’t we just go back to her dating this guy behind my back?

She twirls around with a light-blue gauze sundress draped over her arm. “Only if you don’t mind hanging out with Dad tonight. What do you say? Maybe you can invite a friend over? Oscar or even Kiera?”

“It’s—it’s a school night,” I blurt, like that somehow makes a difference. But it does! What kind of person goes on a date on a school night?

“I don’t have to go,” she says. And despite the brightness in her voice, her expression tells me she’d be super disappointed.