Lara’s eyes widened.

“Congratulations,” she managed, about five seconds too late.

They hugged, but Jenna had clearly deflated a little, and Lara was certain she couldn’t hide the apprehension she felt.

They recovered from that, and Lara went back to her usual role as someone who listened and nodded. They were going to be fine. Nothing could break Jenna’s spirit, probably, and Kenny’d make a lot of money. The sense she had of this as some personal betrayal was totally misplaced. Alexis had been wrong about them. They were conventional, maybe, but not dull.

“Enough about me,” Jenna finally said.

Lara blinked.

“What?” she said.

Jenna cocked her head to the side and smiled. She had been caught not listening, but Jenna was clearly so happy it was impossible to bother her with even that. She just wanted to listen to herself talk.

“Lara, Lara. You’re my best friend in the world,” she said. “You’re the second one to know about this. You and my mom. I told her not to tell my dad, I don’t even know why. I feel sort of crazy,” she said suddenly. “Do you think I’m making the right decision?”

Lara paused. Her eyes slid from Jenna’s face to the roses on the countertop, then back to Jenna, whose smile started to crack under the weight of Lara’s confused, half-comprehending expression.

“Of course,” Lara said, and tried to smile. She was coming to understand how dishonest she had been to her friend, but there was no going back.

“Good,” Jenna said fiercely. “Because I am.” She stood up, and Lara heard the telltale sound of a pair of wine glasses being lifted out of the dish rack.

“You seem kinda out of it,” Jenna said from the kitchen. “Are you, like, alright?”

“Yeah,” Lara said. “Sorry. I’m tired. This was a weird semester.”

“I totally understand that,” Jenna said. “I mean, you saw me that night at the library. I wasn’t sure if I was gonna make it.”

“But you did,” Lara said absentmindedly.

“Yes,” Jenna said. Her perfect, unshakable confidence was back to stay. “Yes. You will too.”

Means to an End

Means to an End

All summer, my roommate Adelaide’s cat kept escaping through the window at night. She usually never got far — into the trees in the courtyard, a couple times scaling the fire escape to the roof. But once she made it all the way down the block to Fresh Pond Road, where my other roommate Nadine found her, clinging to the lowest branch of a street tree, looking down at the sidewalk with wide, terrified eyes. Nadine waved me over from where I was looking under-neath cars.