I scoff at her remark, taking a second to elbow her in the ribs. She pushes my arm away before it makes contact and grins, as if declaring a small victory.

As much as I hate her probing, she isn’t wrong, I’m just not in the mood to get into it. So instead of responding, I shake the question off.

“What about you?” I ask her right back, eager to get the focus off me.

“Nope, don’t even try to change the subject right now. We’re talking about you.” Olivia lifts her brows and points an accusatory finger at me.

“How about no?” I inspect my half-chewed fingernails and avoid looking at her, conscious of how well she reads me.

I make the mistake of stealing a glance at her, just to see her green eyes bore into mine. I feel something unravel in my chest and I let out a long sigh before responding.

“Not sure.” I shrug as I stare into the distance. “Something feels off with Mushroom.”

She takes a sharp breath, undoubtedly affected by it. Realizing it was a rude awakening that knocked me off my feet. Awakening to the possibility that your most treasured childhood memory and sense of belonging may go to rack and ruin isn’t a regular occurrence.

The tree is the reason why Olivia and I are friends in the first place. I never could’ve anticipated it and that’s not because I’m six years her senior. It’s just a result of never truly wanting people around.

Nevertheless, she’s not the type of person to leave you alone. She simply forces herself under your skin and never gets out. She clings to everything you love and does her best to fall in step with your life. Something Olivia did with me. She broke into my life and decided both me and my tree needed a name.

She calls the tree Mushroom, because in her eyes he looks like one, and if I’m honest, I’m starting to see it too. And I’m Blue because, well, my name is a color close to blue. Plus, her desperate need to have a nickname for me.

At first, I opposed the suggestion. I’ve never named anything in my life, and I didn’t see the point of doing so, but Olivia has a way of wearing me down, giving me puppy dog eyes I can’t refuse, so I eventually just stopped protesting.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, pity wandering over her features.

Her expression stays pinched like that for a brief moment until relief settles, turning her lips up at the corners.

“My brother is a tree therapist,” she blurts, widening her eyes at the realization.