Page 18 of The Pocket Pair

I’m having one of those moments where time seems to bend. Like my life is a movie where the special effects are moving things in and out of focus, speeding up and slowing down. I step back, leaning against a bookshelf, needing to feel something solid to ground me.

Tiny is moving? To Costa Rica? In a month? For how long? Why?

All the emotional things I’ve been trying to deal with tonight return with a vengeance. It doesn’t make much sense why I’m reacting this way.

Get control of yourself. Val is a friend, I remind myself. Friends can come and go as they please. You give your friend a handshake and a slap on their back and wish them well.

So why isn’t my body having an appropriate friend-like response?

“What are you gonna do about it?” James asks, his voice low.

I jolt. I’d forgotten he was there. “Me? Do about what?”

“Val.”

“Why would I do anything?” I scoff, and when he glances over, I don’t like the look on his face. It seems to indicate he sees my struggle. Like he knows the warring thoughts in my head right now.

But that’s impossible, because I don’t even know what I’m feeling or why. Not a chance James Graham knows me better than I know myself.

Unless you’re drowning in a big, ol’ vat of denial and James is holding out a hand to pull you out.

“You just look like you want to do something,” he says.

“It’s not my business what Val does with her life,” I tell him, not knowing how much of a lie it is until I taste it on my tongue.

Without another word, I push my way through the emergency exit, not bothering to wait for James to follow.

CHAPTER 6

Val

True best friends are your Rick Astleys—they’re never gonna give you up, let you down, or desert you. (Or however the song goes.)

ANYWAY. I’m reminding myself I should be grateful for Rick Astley friendship as Winnie forcibly drags me down the small alley next to the library. The flip side of the tenacious faithfulness of true best friends is that when you keep a giant secret—like plans to leave the country, for example—real best friends aren’t going to let that drop. Oh, no. They’re going to be all over that. Or, in my case, they’re going to drag me down an alley.

Winnie is breathing hard. So hard, in fact, that her nostrils are flaring.

Normally, angry Winnie scares me. But somehow, the flaring of her perfect little nose makes me want to smile.

I hold it in though. Because I might not survive if Winnie sees me smiling right now.

For the remainder of the LLLS meeting after Mari and I dropped our respective bombs, Lindy and Winnie didn’t say a word about Mari’s announcement. Or anything else. They didn’t meet my eyes. They barely moved a muscle. Which had the effect of making me sweaty and panicked.

It was like having the Jaws theme song playing on repeat in my head for half an hour.

Now, though, the ominous music is reaching its crescendo, and I think I’m gonna need a bigger boat.

Winnie stops suddenly and spins to face me. But it’s Lindy who speaks first, standing hip to hip with Winnie, the two of them like a furious little firing squad. I feel a chill, one much deeper than the mild January cool.

“You’re moving to Costa Rica?! How? Why? When?” Lindy demands.

Winnie doesn’t wait for me to respond before piling on. “And you didn’t tell us?!” She glares through her glasses so hard I half expect tiny holes to burn through my shirt. “Who does that?”

I do, I guess. And I really and truly feel horrible about it but saying that now won’t make my friends feel any better.

When it comes to talking about big life changes or things that scare me, I’m a cartoon ostrich. I jam my head into the sand and stay still, hoping it passes.

Which … didn’t quite work in this situation. Because ostriching is not a healthy or practical coping skill.

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