When we walked into our apartment,

I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

I wanted to hear Bibi’s voice.

So I picked up the phone,

and I called her.

I didn’t even have to ask my parents for her number.

Because I know Bibi’s number

and her mailing address

by heart.

“My Ellie!” she said,

as soon as she heard my voice.

(Ellie is Bibi’s nickname for me.

I don’t let anyone else use it.)

“How are you?” she asked.

“I’m terrible!” I said.

I told her all about Antoine leaving.

“I wish I could call him, like I’m calling you,” I said.

“Or write to him.

But he doesn’t talk or read!”

“He’ll be home soon,” Bibi said.

“Then everything will be fine.”

“Definitely not everything,” I said.

I told her then

how I’d lost my Mondays and Wednesdays

with Pearl.

And how I had to be a singing rabbit

because of Pearl.

And,

worst of all,

how my feelings had been hurt by Pearl.

“I know my dad doesn’t sing well,” I told Bibi.

“And maybe I could be better with Antoine.

But why did Pearl have to say that to Ainsley?”

Bibi was quiet for a second.

Then she said,

“Sometimes it’s hard,

keeping thoughts to ourselves.”

I tried then

to remember times when I’d had trouble

keeping thoughts to myself.

I couldn’t think of a single one!

And I knew I wouldn’t have had any trouble

keeping my thoughts from Ainsley,

if I’d been Pearl.

I wanted to say,

“It’s not hard at all!”

But I didn’t want to tell Bibi she was wrong.

So I changed the subject instead.

We talked about her dad

and how he wasn’t sick anymore.

And we talked about

how much we missed each other.

Then we hung up.

And it was only days later that I realized:

I’d been wrong,

not Bibi.

Because sometimes

I did have trouble—

lots of trouble—

keeping thoughts to myself.