I shake my head to clear that picture. I can’t even imagine heading everywhere alone from here on in.

“Oh fine.” I run to catch up. “Why do you want me to come anyway?”

She towers over me, making her look gawkier and me shrimpier. “You helped me bring my grades up last year. Only fair that I help you socialize.”

“Can you make me taller or older? ’Cause that’s what I really need to make friends.” Having a December birthday makes me the runt of every class, and I just never grow. This year we’re going into high school, and if I don’t shoot up over the summer, I’ll be everyone’s mini-mascot.

“Can’t make you taller, no.”

“Well, then.”

“But if you and me hang together, at least we won’t be alone.”

“I like being alone!” Leastwise I did when Diesel was alive. All I ever needed was my dog.

“Do you like looking like a loser, Naomi?”

“I don’t care!” I answer. Hanging around with her may make me look even worse. She has a knack that way. Mimicking what I say or how I walk or bounce a ball, making me seem even more geeky. She didn’t really do all that well in school last year even with my help. Never did what I told her. But for this one moment, I forget all that. I need someone to walk with, so I do a quickstep to keep up.

Down the long city block we go. Cars jam up in the street, pumping hot exhaust into the air and honking like a high school band.

“Hold up a sec.” Morgan stops at the corner convenience store. “I’m boiling. Why don’t we get a freezie now? Give me your aunt’s money.” She holds out her hand.

“It’s for milk. Use your own. Besides, we’re getting free ice cream.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Wait here for me.” Morgan dashes into the convenience store while I stand outside in the heat. Not five minutes later she dashes out like someone is chasing her.

I start running just in case.

“Hang back!” she calls, and I turn just in time for her to throw me a rocket Popsicle.

I barely catch it. As she draws closer to me, I push it back toward her. “No thanks. I don’t eat stolen goods.”

“What are you talking about? I paid for this.”

“You didn’t have time.”

“Yeah, I did. Threw down some coins. Didn’t ask for the change.” She nudges me. “Go ahead. You don’t have to pay me back.”

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Even though I don’t believe her, I can’t say no. Instead, I peel off the wrapper and taste the tangy ice. “Thanks.”

“I’ve got your back, kid.” It’s what Morgan always says instead of you’re welcome. Sure. Except the only bad mark I ever got was when I asked her to make a graph and a poster for our last presentation of the year. She used pencil crayon on leftover cardboard. Everything looked scribbled and messy. She didn’t even get why I was ticked with her. Called me a teacher-pleaser peanut in front of everyone, and now that’s what everyone calls me. Peanut, that is. Sometimes what I need most is someone to guard my back from her.