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I used my mobile hand to apply a layer of berry balm to my lips as I glanced over at Tara. “Are you and your dad close?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Her eyes flickered with something I couldn’t pinpoint. Melancholy, maybe. “It was rocky for a bit, but we’re kind of getting to know each other again. He works a lot and was out of town for a while. But as far as dads go, he’s one of the good ones.”

I must’ve winced, because Tara immediately backpedaled.

“Shit. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Eager to change the subject, I capped the lip balm with my teeth. “So, are you still seeing Rob?”

She let out a dramatic sigh as she flopped backward on her baby-blue bedcovers. “Maybe. Sort of.” She shrugged. “I dunno.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means Josh Cicero asked me to the winter fling and I’m leaving my options open.”

My brows winged up. “No way.”

“Way. What about you? Rumor has it, you might be getting an invitation from Eric Soloman.”

Her eyebrows waggled, while mine collapsed into a frown.

“Okay, okay.” She giggled. “He’s no Prince Eric, but he’s no sea urchin either. You should think about it.”

“Think about trying to dance in a packed gymnasium with my mammoth robo-arm clocking people in the face? Sounds like a nightmare.”

Tara covered her burst of laughter with both hands before peeking at me between her fingers. “That would be classic. I vote yes.”

I didn’t want to go to the winter fling.

I was only two weeks into wearing this eyesore on my arm, and the doctor said I’d likely be wearing it for at least another four weeks, and that was if the bone healed properly. The dance was in three weeks. Besides, the only person I wanted to go with was well-past high school age and had probably long since forgotten about the girl in the Copperglow Berry lipstick with cartoon hearts in her eyes, lies on her tongue, and Wonderwall flowing through her veins.

I sighed as Ladybug came skipping into the room wearing her red-and-black collar decorated in ladybugs. She dropped at my feet and promptly rolled over for the best tummy rub she’d ever received. I was good at those.

But it wasn’t hard to be good at tummy rubs.

“So…has your mom called you at all?” Tara wondered, her tone bitten back with hesitation as she pulled up on her elbows.

Mom had Whitney Stephens’ phone number, but so far, no calls had come through.

Part of me wasn’t surprised.

Part of me wanted to die.

“Nope.” I focused on Ladybug’s warm, soft fur, instead of on that cold, hard truth.

“I’m sorry, Hals. That’s crappy.”

“How long do you think I’ll be staying with you?”

“I dunno. Mom hasn’t said much about it, but you’re almost eighteen. I guess your mother hasn’t put up a fight, so maybe you can live here until we both move out. We’d be like sisters. That would be something, huh?”

“Yeah, it would be.” My decrepit heart glimmered at the thought. Growing up as an only child in a loveless household gave me an extra appreciation for family. Tara sure felt like family. I glanced at her with a soft smile, her light-brown hair extra teased, wavy, and loaded with chunky barrettes.

We both loved Gin Blossoms, the color blue, and My So-Called Life.

Jared Leto was a babe.

And…

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