Even so, I don’t let myself fully relax until I’m on the Muni back to my friends’ apartment. The train car is full of people going about their Saturday around the city. Everyone is high energy today, like the college students in cosplay chatting loudly as they head to an anime convention or the little kids bouncing up and down in their seats.

And then there’s me, slumped over on my seat and resting my forehead on the cool glass of the train window. Somehow, I’m on the Muni Ride of Shame again, this time for a wholly different reason than I was last month.

Clearly, when it comes to Celeste, I can’t trust myself to make good choices.

By the time the train gets to my stop, I resolve to tell Val and Kiara everything.

11: Gemma

Since the front door opens into the kitchen, I’m hit with the buttery smell of freshly made pancakes as soon as I slip inside my friends’ apartment. Val’s at the stove, singing along at the top of her lungs in Spanish to Fuerza Regida as she cooks breakfast, holding the spatula like a mic. She must have not heard me come in, because she doesn’t turn around.

For a moment, I stand there with my back against the door, watching my friend as she prepares two steaming hot plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, and chocolate chip pancakes.

Val and Kiara have a cute tradition where they—well, mostly Val—make a home-cooked breakfast every Saturday morning, a sacred ritual that goes back to the first time Kiara slept over. Val claims that that’s how she “got the girl,” because during that fateful meal, she promised Kiara that she would make the same breakfast for her every Saturday as long as they both lived.

I think about sneaking past Val, but then I spot a pancake currently cooking—smoking—on the pan. It’s dangerously close to being burnt.

“Need help?” I finally ask. “That pancake looks ready.”

Val startles, but then expertly flips the pancake before turning around to look me up and down. She lowers the volume of the music before saying, “So you’re alive after all.”

“Is Gemma back?” Kiara walks into the kitchen, holding Burrito. “Not to sound like an overprotective parent, but where were you last night, Gemma? You could have at least sent a text or something. Even the Financial District isn’t as safe as it seems. One time, a friend of mine got mugged there in broad daylight!”

Burrito lets out a small yowl of protest, and Kiara places him on the floor. He makes a beeline for his bowls, and after a few licks of water, he comes over to weave between my legs, purring.

I sigh. “Sorry,” I say to my friends, not the cat. “My phone must have died after I got shitfaced.”

“With who?” Val and Kiara ask in unison.