Kate smiled. The sharp tang of smoke filled the air between them, stung her eyes, but she didn’t care. What mattered was being here, with her new best friend. “That’s what friends are for.”

That next night Tully was on the last chapter of The Outsiders when she heard her mother yelling through the house. “Tully! Answer the damn door.”

She slammed the book down and went out into the living room, where her mother sat sprawled on the sofa, taking a bong hit as she watched Happy Days.

“You’re right by the door.”

Her mother shrugged. “So?”

“Hide your bong.”

Sighing dramatically, Cloud leaned over and put her bong beneath the end table beside the couch. Only a blind person would miss it, but that was as good as Cloud was likely to do.

Tully smoothed the hair away from her face and opened the door.

A small, dark-haired woman stood there, holding a foil-covered casserole dish. Electric-blue eye shadow accentuated her brown eyes, and rose-hued blush—applied with too heavy a hand—created the illusion of sharp cheekbones in her round face. “You must be Tully,” the woman said in a voice that was higher somehow than expected. It was a girl’s voice, full of enthusiasm, and it matched the sparkle in her eyes. “I’m Kate’s mom. Sorry to come without calling, but your line has been busy.”

Tully pictured the phone by her mother’s bed off the hook. “Oh.”

“I brought you and your mom a tuna casserole for dinner. I imagine she doesn’t feel much like cooking. My sister had cancer a few years ago, so I know the drill.” She smiled and stood there. Finally, her smile faded. “Are you going to invite me in?”

Tully froze. This is going to be bad, she thought. “Um . . . sure.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Mularkey moved past her and went into the house.

Cloud lay on the sofa, sort of spread-eagled; she had a pile of marijuana on her stomach. Smiling blearily, she tried to sit up and failed. The failure made her shoot out a few swear words and then laugh. The whole house reeked of pot.

Mrs. Mularkey came to a stop. Confusion pleated her forehead. “I’m Margie from next door,” she said.

“I’m Cloud,” Tully’s mother said, trying again to sit up. “It’s cool to meet you.”

“And you.”

For a terrible, awkward moment, they just stared at each other. Tully had no doubt at all that Mrs. Mularkey’s sharp eyes saw everything—the bong under the end table, the bag of Maui-wowie on the floor, the overturned, empty wineglass, and the pizza boxes on the table. “Also, I wanted to let you know that I’m home most days, and I’d be happy to drive you to the doctor’s office or run errands. I know how chemo can make you feel.”

Cloud frowned blearily. “Who’s got cancer?”

Mrs. Mularkey turned to look at Tully, who wanted to curl up and die.

“Tully, show our cool neighbor with the food where the kitchen is.”