Moon is just a spot way out in space. Sitting on a curb in front of a piano store. Whole body vibrating. No idea how long I’ve been walking. Feels weird to stop. Soul keeps marching—doesn’t notice it left its body behind. Can hear my pulse banging around in my ears, so I’m not dead.

Hungry, though. Sore feet and a stiff neck. Why neck?

Shoes off. Rub my heels. Feels so good that my soul comes rushing back to enjoy it. Take socks off. Toes have welded together. Pry them apart. Rotate head on my aching neck. Ahhh! Heaven.

But the motion knocks my brain into gear, makes me admit I’ve walked away. Haven’t run away, but Ma will be just as worried. Dad will be furious. Hope he isn’t taking it out on my little brother. Hate when he does that.

Wonder how late it is. Know I should call home. Slide into the doorway to rest first. Amazing how soft the cement is, how pillow-like the door. Dream about macaroni and cheese.

Saturday

Katie

It stunned me that there still wasn’t an e-mail from Sarah in the morning. Imagine her sticking to the ridiculous idea that I’d told on her! One thing I THOUGHT I knew about Sarah was that she didn’t stay mad for long. But, there I go again, thinking I KNOW something.

Maybe this WAS different. Maybe this time she wouldn’t get over it. Wouldn’t joke about it. Maybe she would just be done with me. Finished.

That would be so wrong! Not just because A) we’d shared practically every secret and thought for years and years. Or because B) she was my only good friend who’d known my dad alive. Or because C) I’d miss her so badly. But because D) I was being blamed for something I DIDN’T EVEN DO!

I staggered through the apartment as clumsy as a cartoon character who’d been bashed on the head with a frying pan.

Mum was talking on the phone and washing dishes. I could tell she was giving a client a pep talk. My mum is a dog trainer, and somehow the people who hire her think they can call any time they please to report that Fido piddled on their rug, dug up their hydrangeas, chewed their whatever, or bit the nephew. Mum always clucks sympathetically and reminds them to be firm.

She caught sight of me and waved a sudsy hand.

I waved back and poured myself some orange juice.

I heard her say, “Oh, can you hold the line for a quick sec while I get rid of this other call?”

She dried her hands on a towel. “Well, hi, Muriel,” she said. Then she listened for a while, her face getting tighter and tighter until it looked ready to crack. At last she said, “Gee, I’ll ask her,” and turned to me.