Kate rolled her eyes. Always there was the subtle—and not so subtle—pressure to be like Tully. “We’re not talking about my future. Focus, Mom.”

“I’m just saying—”

“I heard you. So what do I do? She is avoiding me completely. I was trying to be a good friend.”

“Sometimes being a good friend means saying nothing.”

“I’m just supposed to watch her make a mistake?”

“Sometimes, yes. And then you stand by to pick up the pieces. Tully’s such a big personality; it’s easy to forget her background and how easily she can be hurt.”

“So what do I do?”

“Only you can answer that. My days of being your Jiminy Cricket are long past.”

“No more life-is speeches, huh? Great. Just when I could have used one.”

Through the phone line came the hiss of exhaled smoke. “I do know that she’s going to be in the editing room at KVTS at one o’clock.”

“You’re sure?”

“That’s what she said.”

“Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Kate hung up and hurried back to her room, where she dressed quickly and put on a little makeup: concealer, mostly, to cover the zits that had broken out across her forehead since their fight.

She made her way across campus in record time. It was easy. This late in the quarter people were busy studying for finals. At the door to KVTS, she paused, steeling herself as if for battle, and then went inside.

She found Tully exactly where Mom had predicted: hunched in front of a monitor, logging the raw footage and interviews. At Kate’s entrance, she looked up.

“Well, well,” Tully said, standing up. “If it isn’t the head of the Moral Majority.”

“I’m sorry,” Kate said.

Tully’s face crumpled at that, as if she’d been holding her breath in and suddenly let it go. “You were a real bitch.”

“I shouldn’t have said all that. It’s just . . . we’ve never held back from each other.”

“So that was our mistake.” Tully swallowed, tried to smile. Failed.

“I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. You’re my best friend. I’m sorry.”

“Swear it won’t happen again. No guy will ever come between us.”

“I swear.” Kate meant it with every fiber of her being. If she had to staple her tongue down, she’d do it. Their friendship was more important than any relationship. Guys would come and go; girlfriends were forever. They knew that. “Now it’s your turn.”

“What do you mean?”

“Swear you won’t bail on me again without talking. These last three days really sucked.”

“I swear it.”