“I know you’re in there, Ames, and I know you probably want to be left alone,” Sam called out, knocking firmly on Amy’s bedroom door. “But you should know that I’m not leaving without seeing my best friend, and she can’t hide either—trust me, I still remember what she looks like. Let’s see, she’s about five foot four, with mousy brown hair, and green eyes, and she’s also got this flawless skin that has always kinda bugged me because I know she loves french fries just as much as I do. But I’m taller. So I guess that balances it out. Except . . . being taller doesn’t really balance things out, does it? It just makes me taller. And I think I’d much rather have perfect skin. But anyway . . .” Sam took a breath. “I’m worried, and even though she’s the most amazingly brave person I know, I really want to see her, just to make sure she’s okay.” Sam paused again, waiting for a response. “Amy?”

Resigned to the fact that her friend wouldn’t take no for an answer, Amy reluctantly closed the lid to her computer and went to let her in.

“There you are!” Sam cried out, falling into the room like a tower of stacked boxes and wrapping her arms around the back of Amy’s neck. “How are you? Are you doing okay?”

“I’m okay,” Amy replied, resting her chin on Sam’s shoulder. “I’m okay.”

As Amy propped a pair of pillows against the wall and climbed back into bed, Sam rolled a chair out from beneath Amy’s desk and wheeled herself into the center of the room. On her lap was a paper bag from which she promptly removed a white carton, a napkin, and a plastic fork.

“I wasn’t sure whether to keep turning up like this,” Sam said breathlessly. She offered the carton and fork to Amy, then spent the next few minutes espousing how much self-control it had taken for her not to flood Amy’s phone with messages and call every hour of the day. “I don’t want you to think I’m checking up on you, but I think it’s important you see someone regularly. And I figured you could do with something yummy to eat, too. Wasn’t sure what you felt like, so I got something simple.”

Though she wasn’t hungry in the slightest, Amy indulged Sam’s whim and peeled back the folds of the lid.

“It’s just a noodle salad. But if you feel like something else, I can head back out. I can go to Bec Sucré and get some of those pain aux raisins that you like? Or maybe some sushi? You name it.”