I didn’t need a FaceTime call to know Mia was probably biting her thumbnail. That was her go-to anxiety move ever since we met in elementary school.

“You called me,” I reminded her once the silence had stretched on.

“Yeah. Uh . . . I didn’t think you were coming home for Christmas.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Yeah, I got that. Why didn’t you tell me first?” There was a hint of accusation in her voice, which got my back up.

“Did I need your permission?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I meant . . . I mean, why . . . why did you change your mind?”

“I have my reasons,” I replied.

“Did somebody tell you? About me and Brody?”

I huffed out a laugh. “No. No one told me about you and Brody. Not even you, my supposed best friend.”

“Oh, now I’m your best friend,” she snapped, her voice rising, and I knew the gloves had officially come off. “That’s messed up.”

“How?”

“Because you left, Finley. And you barely talked to me at all for the last, like, three months!”

“Because I was in school, and studying!”

And trying not to be a total failure, something at which I had failed. Not that I’d told Mia—or anyone here at home—about that part. It was humiliating.

“And hanging out with your new friends,” she continued, sounding hurt.

That jab threw me for a moment. Between the two of us, Mia was definitely the more sensitive. There were probably as many stars in the Milky Way as there were times I’d apologized to her for saying something that accidentally hurt her feelings over the years.

And a part of me started to automatically fall back into my pattern with her, to tell her that wasn’t true and try to make her feel better.

Except the words wouldn’t come out.

“You’re totally not even denying it,” she accused when I failed to respond.

I felt her anger starting to boil over, but when I opened my mouth a second time to speak, my brain went blank. It’s like there was a white wall where words and feelings should be. I closed my mouth and continued to say nothing. “Whatever.” She spat the word out at me. “Yeah, I’m dating Brody. Why do you care? You left him, too. You left everyone to go be someone better than the rest of us, so don’t get mad if we move on, too!”

The phone went dead then, and I didn’t bother to try to call her back.

I knew what would come later tonight: a flurry of text messages, because when Mia got hurt, she got angry.

And Mia was hurt. What kind of friend was I that I hadn’t noticed?

I sighed, knowing I should go get ready for bed. Tomorrow was going to be a long, weird day, filled with Chakrabartis and a chatty dentist and reindeer.