“The one who hates you?”

“She doesn’t hate me. She was really nice. I found out what really happened between her and my mom. Before my mother got married, she told her that she didn’t like Stan and that she shouldn’t marry him. My mother got really upset and told her she never wanted to talk to her again. Then my mother told Stan and he called and screamed at her and told her if he ever saw her or if she called the house she’d regret it. She was actually worried about us. Especially me. When I told her that I’d run away she said she wasn’t surprised. She asked me to come live with her.”

“In Denver?”

Grace nodded.

“Did you tell her everything?”

“I told her about the baby.”

“What did she say?”

“She didn’t ask who the father was. I wasn’t ready to tell her yet. But she said it was good that I called and that she’d help me. She wanted me to come right away.”

“When was this?”

“Last Friday. I told her that I couldn’t leave before Christmas.”

“Why not?”

She looked at me, puzzled that I didn’t know. “Because of you. I don’t want to leave you.”

Now my eyes filled with tears.

It was a few moments before I could speak. “This is good news, right?” I said, trying to sound happy.

“Yes. It is.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Friday.”

I looked down. She suddenly smiled. “You should come with me.”

“I can’t.”

“I know it’s impossible. I just…” She paused. “…I can’t imagine being without you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

She fell back into me and I pulled my arms tightly around her. We gently swayed through three or four more songs until the vinyl record began skipping. I went and put the needle back at the beginning of the record. When I returned she was sitting down.

“I have presents for you too.”

I sat down. She handed me two gifts. One was a small box wrapped in shiny red paper. The other was a piece of parchment rolled up in a scroll and tied with a yellow ribbon. “They’re not as good as yours.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” I unwrapped the first package; it was a small blue velvet jeweler’s box. I opened the lid; inside was an ornate silver locket.

“It’s not for you to wear,” she said. “It’s for you to hold.”

I looked at her, my heart feeling things I’d never felt before. “Thank you.”

“Open it.”

I unclasped the locket. On one side, beneath a small glass pane, was a picture of Grace. On the other side, also beneath glass, was a strand of her hair.