Yes, we live in a Walking Town.
But it still felt like a long, long way from school back to Main Street.
When I got to the apartment, I trudged up the stairs, wiping my tears and snotty nose on my sleeve, and then I did it again on the other side just to spite DiDi because I knew she hated it. I didn’t even bother putting myself on Kenneth Alert. Who cared? He wanted to see DiDi, not me. I reached the top and stopped short. Someone was sitting on the floor. It was Mace.
She looked like she’d been crying, too, but before I could ask what she was doing leaning against our apartment door, she started talking.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so—so mean. It’s just—it’s just Trip and I have known each other since we were little. We were always together. Then last summer, this—there was this stupid thing—and since then, it’s been weird and he just—and then you show up and, just like that, you’re his best friend.”
Stupid thing? Me, Trip’s best friend?
“And that makes up for the nasty way you’ve been treating me? Making smart remarks about my mama? Picking on DiDi, and then suddenly you’re working with her and hanging out and t-talking all the time—and it’s like—” My voice cracked. “It’s like you’re spending more time with DiDi than I am.…”
Mace was looking me straight in the face, and at that moment, I had to give her credit. Most people, probably including me, would be looking down at the ground during a talk like this.
“Okay.” She nodded. “I did go there to give DiDi a hard time, but then—she was so nice and—and started talking to me about how I wanted to look and asking who I thought I was on the inside and how maybe we could make my hair match the way I feel.”
I said nothing.
“Anyway, I know you didn’t mean what you said that day outside the nurse’s office.… I know DiDi likes me. We—we talk all the time now at the salon. She lets me do all sorts of things there. Not that I think I could do what she does or ever be as good as she is. It’s just…” She shook her head. “All my mom does is try to make me what she wants me to be.”
As long as I could remember, DiDi had been telling me what she wanted me to be.
Not asking me. Telling me.
I could feel a tiny part of me thinking that, maybe, Mace and I had something in common.
Then I stopped myself. Because we didn’t.
Maybe we had both just run away from people who were telling us what to do and who to be. But I didn’t have anybody on my side, and it looked like she had DiDi. And now she had Trip back, too.
Then Mace with her rock star haircut looked up at me with my DiDi Special. Her mouth still and waiting, like it wasn’t sure whether or not it should stay in a straight, straight line.
I stepped past her into the apartment and clicked the door shut. Then I locked it.