I called Raven and Micayla as soon as I got home from the bookstore.
“Mom!” I hollered. “I’m going out.”
“Where?” she yelled back, from her bedroom.
“The Charmery. With Raven and Micayla.”
“Fine.” She didn’t even say Don’t ruin your appetite for dinner, which meant she still wasn’t her usual self. Not that saying it would matter. I never feel like eating Mom’s cooking, appetite or not.
I pulled on my Jackson Pollock jeans, the ones Micayla made for me. She always wore paint-spattered clothing—overalls, mostly—and I loved the way she looked. Her clothes were paint-spattered from wearing them while actually painting, not because she’d bought them that way.
Micayla and Raven were already sitting at a window table, waiting for me, when I walked into the Charmery—it was only a few blocks from my house, so I knew they must’ve really hurried. I felt tears prickling up and quickly squeezed my eyes shut. God, I was such a leaky faucet these days.
When I opened my eyes, my friends were standing in front of me.
“Girl, what are you doing? Making a wish?” Micayla asked, grinning. “Well, ta-da, here we are!”
Raven gave me a sharp look, though, and I could tell she knew why I was all squinty-eyed. Have I mentioned that I never cry? “Let’s get this girl a double scoop,” she said, leading me to the ice cream counter.
I ordered an Old Bay Caramel–Berger Cookies & Cream combo in a cup. Raven got two scoops of Thai Tea with sprinkles. Micayla chose something called Chinese Food & a Movie, which turned out to be buttered-popcorn–flavored ice cream with chocolate-covered fortune cookie pieces.
“Totally gross, and yet totally delicious,” she reported. We passed each cup to the right until we’d tasted everyone else’s ice cream.
Raven and Micayla both looked exhausted. Micayla was a junior, and she spent all her free time studying for the SAT and working on her college portfolio and being the president of the Black Student Council. She wanted to study art therapy and teach art to kids with learning disabilities. Raven spent Wednesday afternoons tutoring middle schoolers in Waverly, and Saturday mornings she helped plant and harvest vegetables at the community garden in Remington. In her nonexistent free time, between debate team and student government and getting straight As in all her classes, she had her nose buried in biographies of women like Malala Yousafzai and Hillary Clinton. It was hard sometimes to watch my two best friends planning to change the world while I sat around taking up space and feeling like I wasn’t particularly good at anything.
And yet, they were both here.
My ice cream started turning into a sticky brown-gray puddle as I stirred it with my spoon.
“So,” Micayla said, “do you want to talk about it?”
“Oh, come on,” Raven said. “You called us and said it was an ice cream emergency. We came running.”
“I know. You guys are the best,” I said.
“So?” Micayla prompted.
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“Well, start somewhere,” Raven said. “You’re killing me!”
“Okay, okay.” It was going to sound melodramatic no matter how I said it. “My dad … found out that he has another kid. A daughter. My age. Her mother just died and she’s coming to live with us.”
Silence.
Then Micayla whistled, and Raven clapped a hand on my arm. “Cadie. Shut. Up.”
I nodded. My ears were ringing, as if hearing my own voice utter all those words had done some sort of permanent damage. My tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth, which was suddenly very dry. As if the words had scorched me from the inside out.
“Wow.” Raven blew out a long breath. “Shit. Who knew your dad was such a player?”
“Raven!” said Micayla.
Dad? A player?
Raven saw the look on my face. “Oh god, Cadie, I’m sorry. Me and my big mouth.”
Micayla shot Raven a dirty look, then turned to me. “Honey, how’s your mom doing?”
I shook my head. What if I could invent a head motion for every word in the English language and never have to speak again?
I could see Raven thinking over what I’d said. “If she’s your age … ,” she said slowly. “That means your mom and dad were already married.”
I nodded again.
“Sweet mother Mary,” said Micayla. “I’m not sure two scoops is enough for this situation.”
I held my stomach, which was rumbling ominously, and groaned. Raven and Micayla scooted closer on either side of me and put their arms around me.
“This shoulder’s here,” Micayla said, “no matter what happens. You hear me?”
“Second that,” said Raven. “Plus, you can always come sleep over at my house if things get too weird.”
I looped my arms under theirs, so the three of us were linked together. Luckily we were facing the window, not the rest of the shop. I was sure everyone else was staring at us. Despite that, and the way I seemed to have lost my powers of speech, and the fact that I was kind of lactose intolerant and ice cream was always a terrible decision … I felt a little better.