27

ALEX DROPS ME OFF AT SIBBY’S APARTMENT ON SATURDAY afternoon with a pep talk. “If she gives you a hard time, we’ll ditch her and buy you a cuddly koala from Australia instead.”

I steal his baseball cap and fling it onto the sidewalk, ignoring his yelp as I slide from the car.

“You’d better not make me get out for that,” Alex calls from the driver’s seat.

I don’t answer, but I do dip down and retrieve his hat, dangling it through the open window.

He snatches it from me. “Anything you want me to tell Will when I see him?”

Alex hasn’t pushed back on my vague answers about Will, but he does know from Mom that his BFF was the one to bring me to the hospital last week, meaning he knows we were continuing to hang out together after that first time. I have no idea what Will may or may not have said to him about it.

I smile and shrug. “I texted him yesterday—we’re good.”

I did, too. I thanked him for being there when I needed him, and he responded to say he was so sorry about my not getting the liver and that he understood if I wasn’t in the right headspace to hang out, but he’d be a text away if I ever was. We’re cool.

Although I’d never admit this to my brother, Will was the exact right guy for the job and I’m grateful he was around. But hanging out with Will was all about keeping it light and breezy, and I realize now that my much bigger priority is setting things straight with someone who pushed me to keep it real.

My person.

It’s been a week since our fight—nine days, technically—and Sibby and I haven’t spoken a word to one another. Not a text, not an Insta tag, not anything. That’s never happened before and I have no idea how she’s going to react to my apology today. I haven’t been in the position of having to utter one to her before.

I mean, over minor stuff, sure. I’m sorry I forgot to grab you a Gatorade when I stopped at 7-Eleven on my way to practice. I’m sorry I didn’t notice your “Save me” eyes when you got stuck talking to Carmen Moreno about League of Legends for twenty minutes. I’m sorry I accidentally barged in on you making out with Justin Bolt.

Never I’m sorry we’ve been giving each other the silent treatment for nearly the entirety of our last-ever school vacation week. Or even just at all.

But as much as Alex’s showing up and my parents’ nudging has helped pull me back from the brink this week, things will never really be okay if I don’t have my best friend. I need to fix us.

I wave bye to my brother and enter Sibby’s apartment building, climbing the stairs to stand in front of her door. I’m not completely sure what time their train was scheduled back and whether they’ll even be home yet, but Sibby answers on my first knock, her eyes wide when she sees it’s me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Someone in one of the nearby apartments is cooking something that smells like extra-pungent fish and it assaults my nose, but I force my expression to hold on one that I hope conveys true repentance.

She shifts her stance to lean against the doorway casing. “Me too.”

When I exhale, her chin juts out a bit and she adds, “But I can’t take back what I said the other day, even if I wasn’t expecting you to react the way you did.”

“I don’t want you to. Turns out you were right anyway.”

Her eyebrows flicker. “Which part?”

I purse my lips and sigh. “Probably most of it. Maybe the part about me not being brave.”

Sibby’s posture relaxes at this, and her eyes soften. “Lia! You know I wasn’t try to drag you. I think you’re totally capable of being brave, I just don’t think you’ve been letting yourself go there lately and I thought maybe if I pointed it out, it might, you know, shake you up a little. But in a good way.” She pushes off the door casing. “I was trying to help.”

I nod. “I know. At least, I know that now. Turns out losing your shot at a liver and locking yourself in your room most of the week to mourn makes you realize some stuff.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Can I come in?”

She rolls her eyes, another sign that we’re gonna get past this. “What are you, a vampire? You need an invitation?”

I follow her down the hall toward her room and we assume our regular positions—Sibby on her stomach across her bed and me sprawled out on one of her floor cushions.

“So I got the call,” I say.

She sits straight up, her eyes wide. “Holy shit,” she whispers. “What—how—”

I fill her in on the stuff at the hospital, scooting closer to brush away her tears when they fall.

“I’m the worst friend in the world,” she says. “I was watching Hamilton and you were prepping for major surgery, and then having to deal with not having it, without me by your side cheering you up.”

“Yeah, well, the Worst Friend Award is all mine for making everything about me lately and for being so all over the place.”

“Will this award be hand lettered? Because if so, I want it.”

I make a face. “Might as well use my talents there, since I won’t have the chance to anywhere else.”

I tell her about quitting the mural.

“Was that a heat of the moment thing, or is it still what you want?” she asks.

Leave it to Sibby to know instantly that I’ve been regretting my decision for days now.

Shrugging, I say, “Now that I’m feeling a tiny bit better again, I wish I hadn’t done it, but it’s too late now. The arts commission lady was already super worried that I wasn’t going to be able to finish by May fourth—”

Sibby interrupts me to say, “May the fourth be with you.” She turns her palms up in apology. “Sorry, it’s physically impossible for me to hear that date and not finish the saying. You know how I feel about all things Carrie Fisher.”

“Yeah, yeah, Jedi Master. Anyway, I’m sure she was on the phone lining up a replacement the minute we hung up.”

Sibby pulls at a thread on her quilt. “Oh, babe, that sucks. I’m sorry. And I really am sorry about the other night too. I think maybe . . . I think maybe I was trying to start a blue that day, just to get that stuff out of my head and into the open.”

“Does blue mean fight, you Aussie freak?”

She nods. “But it wasn’t because I was angry at you specifically, I’m just pissed off about all of it. Although, I’m kind of pissed at you because I don’t feel like I can talk to my best friend about how I’m feeling, since you don’t want to delve into anything related to all of this. I get that it’s happening to you and this is your way of dealing with things, but . . .” She pauses and lifts her eyes to mine. “It’s also kind of happening to me too, and my way of dealing with anything confusing is usually to talk it to death with my best friend—argh, sorry. Terrible word choice.”

I shake my head and gesture for her to continue.

“Except if I complain about how I’m feeling, I come across as a twit because it’s so much worse to be in your shoes and I feel like the biggest wanker ever, whining about how much this is all tearing me apart.” Her voice cracks and a tear slips down her cheek when she adds, “But it is.”

She raises her eyes to mine and sees that I’m about to cry too, and then we both burst into teary laughter. Because what else is there to do?

“I messed everything up,” I say. “With me, with you, with—just with everything. I want you to be able to whine to me. I want to be able to talk about it with you too, and to find a way to stare down some of the stuff I’ve been avoiding, I’m just not sure how to do that yet.”

“I’ll help!” Sibby says, without hesitation. She tumbles off her bed and crawls over to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I grab back and hang on for dear life.

I speak into her hair. “I’m so sorry. I know I keep saying that, but—”

“No, I’m so sorry!”

“Well, I’m more sorry.”

“Fuck right off, I’m more sorry, you gronk,” she insists.

“Don’t call me a gronk when I don’t know what that means, you shitfrisbee.”

She pulls back enough to look at my face. “You just made that up!”

I half sniffle, half giggle. “I totally just made that up.”

“I love you,” she says.

“I love you more.” We cling to each other even harder.

Then Sibby lifts her head from my shoulder slightly and says, “Ugh, this crying is making my nose run. Do you care if I wipe it on your sweater?”

“I really, really do.”

There’s a pause. “Oh. Then, um, whoops.”