“Well. That’s that,” Anna said, shrugging her shoulders. She got up and took my father’s empty martini glass into the kitchen. I stayed a while longer, staring at my father’s chair. There was nothing to say. Daddy had done the numbers, and in our house, the numbers were the equivalent to God’s hand pointing the way.

It felt like the end of the world.

Nicole and I stood on the beach sobbing, arms around each other, our candy necklaces entwined. We had stolen them from the Colony Pharmacy the day before, hearts racing as we’d casually strolled past the cash register, practiced looks of innocence on our faces, the fruit-flavored trinkets stuffed deep into our pockets.

The Santa Ana’s were blowing hard, and I shielded my face from the flying sand as we crunched off the chalky circles one by one, reassuring each other with promises to get together every weekend and every holiday.

“Ladies, it’s almost time!” My father’s voice called from inside.

I scrambled into my tennis shoes and we hurried around to the front of the house where the last of the moving vans drove away, slowly, carefully over the speed bumps. Daddy had threatened them with a lawsuit if even one cup was broken.

“Well, this is it.” I sniffled.

“Wait.” Nicole pulled back the long strands of hair whipping around her face and reached into her pocket. She took out an old “Carter for President” button and held it out for me to see. “I have a plan.”

“I thought your mom voted for Reagan.”

“There’s a pin on the back.” Nicole turned the button over. “If we prick our fingers and rub them together, we’ll be blood sisters.”

I took the button from her and examined it.

“It’s clean if that’s what you’re thinking,” Nicole said. “I boiled it.”

“C’mon, quick.” I pulled her back through our gate and checked around for a spot where nobody would see us. There were cleaning people everywhere, and Anna was going in and out making sure nothing had been forgotten.

“Up here,” I whispered.

I pulled her up the stairs over the garage and inside the room where Anna had lived when she still belonged to me. The single bed and nightstand were long gone and wires hung out of the ceiling where the light fixture had been. We latched the door against the wind and sat down on the sand-dusted floor facing each other.

“I’ll go first,” I said, pushing the pin against my thumb. It took a couple of tries before I was brave enough to pierce the skin, but I managed to squeeze out a little dot of blood.