The car starts moving right after we buckle up. The gentle movement pulls at my eyelids. I’m so close to sleep, despite the coffee. The silence doesn’t do much to help.

“You’re just going to get some pills,” Claudia says, turning to Lydia. “Come on, it’s no big deal.”

I blink my eyes open. I can see Claudia’s face—full of concern, unusually soft—but I can’t see Lydia’s. I don’t get why she’s so nervous.

“I just feel like a liar,” she says. “You should’ve seen my mom the other day. She wanted to talk about feelings and changes, and I told her I’m not having sex. Now I’m going to get birth control without telling her. Does that make me horrible?”

“I don’t think so,” I say, shrugging. “Do you want to talk to her about banging Ian Waters?”

“First of all, ew.” Claudia glances up at me in the mirror. “And second, no one says bang anymore.”

“I do.”

She snorts.

The clinic is about fifteen minutes away, and we spend the rest of the ride in silence. Lydia’s parents both work in finance, so she doesn’t have to worry about seeing any family friends working there. All she has to do is go in, pay for the pills, and come back out.

Claudia pulls into a parking space. There are about six other cars here, even though it’s early in the morning. The faded pink lettering near the heavy metal doors seems like something out of a movie.

I click off my seat belt, leaning forward so that I can see Lydia’s face.

“Do you want us to come in with you?” I ask. It’s so odd to see her without her signature smoky eye on. “Because we will, if you want us to. We can all walk in together.”

Lydia shakes her head, taking off her seat belt.

“No. People might not recognize me, but they’ll recognize us if we’re together.”

It’s more like they’ll recognize Claudia and Lydia. They’ve been friends for ages, going to the same school and playdates at each other’s houses.

“There are confidentiality laws,” Claudia says, killing the engine.

“Yeah,” I say. “The nurses and the doctors can’t tell anyone without your permission. It’s going to be fine.”

“What if we’re late to class?”

Claudia and I scoff, the sounds overlapping.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “If anything, we can tell your parents that you were helping me with something family-related. You can tell them that I got sick, if you want.”

It would be weird to lie to Mrs. Wu. I’ve only been to her house once, for a sleepover back in September, and she made pancakes for breakfast when we woke up. But I wouldn’t mind doing it for Lydia.