“I don’t have any other friends these days.”

The baby drained the remnants of her bottle and squirmed. “What now?”

Shianne stretched toward me. “Hand her over. Gotta burp her.”

That was definitely beyond my pay grade, so I walked Zoey to her mother, and let Shianne get about the business of baby gas. This did bring to mind all the subconscious warnings MJ’s Healthy Living lessons were hammering into us. My guilt-soaked questions about MJ’s whereabouts tried to resurface, but I forced them back down. Focused on Shianne’s problems, her worries.

She was always well liked in school. Now she had to pay me for company? No friends? “How is that possible? What about the other Baby-Get—” Shit.

She leaned toward me, patting Zoey’s back lightly while her lip twitched. “Go on. Say it to my face. You wouldn’t be the first.”

I heavy-sighed. “The Baby-Getters.”

“Right. To answer your question, why aren’t I friends with them? I wasn’t friends with them before, despite what News Channel 12 wants everyone to think. Besides, if the town’s treating us like a coven of witches when we never really hung together, what would it be like if we all started mass playdates?”

“I didn’t think about that.”

She swiped a hand my way, slow, no energy. “Why should you? It’s not your problem. I don’t mean to take it out on you. Let’s get to ‘work.’” She made finger quotes with one hand.

It wasn’t a total scam. Shianne didn’t need my help with school stuff, but an extra set of arms for Zoey didn’t hurt. I played with the little girl while Shi did pre-calc problems. When the room got suddenly fragrant in a way that made me think of despair, Shianne took Zoey for a diaper change while I texted Jameer about Friday’s dinner with Kiera. Basically telling him we needed a good way for him to make an exit at some point in the evening. He didn’t respond right away, but I’d be thinking on it for sure.

When Mister Griffiths arrived home, he greeted me warmly (“Del, long time!”), paid me my fifty bucks promptly, then quizzed Shianne on all the responsible things she’d done today. My cue to leave.

“See you in school tomorrow, Shi.”

Glum: “We can only hope.”

At home, there was no family dinner. Mom and Dad left a note about catching a movie, and I rummaged in the freezer for microwave sesame noodles. While my meal cooked, I caught sight of the ever-present car insurance bill sitting on the counter. I supposed I could’ve left the fifty bucks I’d earned being Shianne’s study buddy on the envelope as a down payment, but, if I did that, I might come up short at dinner with Kiera on Friday. Unthinkable.

I slept rough again, my worries about Healthy Living and MJ attacking my defenseless subconscious. So I can’t overstate the relief I felt the next day when I walked into English class and found MJ back behind his desk, prepping his teaching materials.