Page 104 of Hello Stranger

Now she looked up. I could feel the confusion in her expression. “Huh?”

“Of the two Hazels who work here,” I said, with a feeling like this question was already doomed, “which one are you?”

A pause. Then she shook her head. “I’m the only Hazel who works here.”

“Always?” I asked. “Has there ever been another Hazel working here?”

“Nope,” Hazel said, getting back to sweeping. “Just me.”

Oh, my god. There was only one Hazel who worked here. The girl with the bob and the girl with the ponytail werethe same person.

Twenty

I KNEW, OFcourse, that I couldn’t trust my perceptions.

I knew that my brain was having a rough month.

But it was so strange to witness it correcting itself.

I really wasn’t okay. Not yet.

The only Hazel was gesturing at me to move out of the way now so she could sweep. I started to tiptoe my way over the broken glass in my dumb strappy sandals… when an arm clamped around my waist to help guide me.

Joe.

I knew it before I knew it. I felt him in an instant.

Then one side glance brought confirmation: Yep. The bowling jacket.

“Let’s sit you down,” Joe said, starting to walk me toward a bench.

But when we got back to the safe shore of the glass-shard-free sidewalk, I sidled out of his grasp.

Joe. Pajamas. Parker.Nope.

He did not need to rescue me. Not today. Not after whatever he’dbeen up to with the defining bully of my lifetime. I could rescue myself, thanks very much.

Mostly, I was angry at Parker. I was angry at the man who’d shot me the bird. I was angry at the imaging tech who hadn’t found any reduction of the edema. I was angry at my blister and my understocked grocery store and my dead phone battery. And atmyselffor my own inability to navigate my life—and the way I’d just brutalized that innocent glass door.

But right then, all that anger just crystallized at Joe.

Howdarehe cavort with my evil stepsister like that and then show up acting like a good person?

It wasn’t just poor choices. It was a deep betrayal. And the fact that he didn’t know that?

That just made it worse.

An image of Joe stepping out of Parker’s door in his pajamas lit up in my head like a neon sign. Who did he think he was?

“I’ve got it,” I said, my voice distant.

Joe hesitated. “Can I—”

“No, thanks.”

“Are you—” he tried again.

“I’m good.”

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