I stared out the open window at the blue-gray haze of early morning, the air fresh with moisture from the previous night’s thunderstorm. Closing my eyes, I inhaled. It had been twenty-three days since I’d last seen Devon, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was the first thought in my head when I opened my eyes each morning and the last when I cried myself to sleep missing him. I felt like I’d had part of myself torn away. What was worse, he’d taken all the good parts, leaving behind skin and bones pretending to be a whole person.

When the sun fully broke the horizon, I rose from the window seat and walked to my closet. I heard my younger brother and sister moving around downstairs. In my mind, I saw my very pregnant mother trying unsuccessfully to wrangle them. They were like three-foot-tall whirlwinds destroying everything in their paths, including my mother’s sanity one tiny fragment at a time.

The smell of bacon on the stove filled the house. I followed it to the kitchen hoping to find something delicious waiting at the table. Instead, I found scrambled eggs drenched in pepper, black toast, and grease-covered floppy bacon. My appetite left me. I chugged half a glass of orange juice and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Mom asked.

“School,” I answered. “I need to stop by the library before class.”

“Again?” Mom’s eyebrows furrowed. I had inherited her golden curls, small nose, and slender jaw, but her gray eyes were hers alone. They studied me, full of disbelief. “That’s twice this week.”

“Yeah. Huge report in English.” I backed toward the door.

“You need to eat, Tori.” She pointed to the table with the spatula in her hand.

“Can’t. Sorry, Mom. Joy’s waiting. I’ll see you later.” I turned and jogged across the front room before she could argue.

I met my cousin, JoyAnn Davis, at the end of her driveway. She had half of her strawberry-blonde hair pulled back with a silver barrette and wore a floral sundress more revealing than her usual attire. I considered asking her about the change. It probably had something to do with a boy. Most of the time when girls changed how they dressed boys were the cause. I didn’t know which boy though.

“Did you have breakfast?” she asked, nibbling on a bran muffin.

“No,” I answered. “Mom tried to make bacon again. It wasn’t eat-able.” I retrieved a scrunchy from the side pocket of my backpack and pulled my hair back in a messy bun. Although I loved the air after rain, my waist-length golden curls did not. Gallons of mousse couldn’t keep it from turning into a frizzy mess.

“Here.” Joy offered me a package of toaster pastries from her purse.

“No, thanks.” I shook my head as the two of us started down the street. “I’ll wait and get something from the machine at school.”

She frowned. “That’s not very healthy, Tori.”

“And cold Pop-Ups are?”

“I’ll share my muffin with you.” She tucked the pastries back in her purse and tore her muffin in half.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “I’d rather chew on cardboard.”

Ahead of us, on the other side of the street, Kennedy Phillips came out of her house. She had her shoulder-length brown hair wound into matching buns on the sides of her head and wore white pants with a lime-green tank top that tied at the shoulders. 

Her hair looks super cute like that. Wish I could do something like that with my hair, but nope, my hair has to be a giant frizz ball. 

Kennedy adjusted the strap of her backpack, straightened her shoulders, and lifted her chin as she started down her side of the street. Yeah, that’s right. Act like you’re better than us. I glowered.

“I take it you’re still mad at her,” Joy said.

“That’s an understatement,” I grumbled, picking at the side of my finger.

“Didn’t she apologize?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I shot a scornful look across the street. “She’ll just stab me in the back again.”

“You don’t know that.” Joy set her hand on my shoulder. “You should give her a chance. It might make you feel better.” She used the same tone she did with my little brother and sister.

“Doubt it.” I jerked away from her touch.

We shuffled around a massive tree branch that had gotten knocked down in the storm.

“After school, we should help clean up,” Joy said.

“No, thanks.” I shook my head. “I don’t feel like wasting my Friday night picking up sticks. And don’t you have that thing with the math geeks after school?”

“Oh, yeah.” She grinned. “I almost forgot. Sure you don’t want to come with us?”

“I’m sure. Lou Chambers staring at my tits for an hour isn’t my idea of a good time.”

At the end of the block, we checked for cars before we entered the crosswalk. In my peripheral vision, I saw Kennedy coming toward us. She was almost to the corner. I slowed so she would be in front of us when we reached the sidewalk. If she were behind, I didn’t trust her not to stab me in the back for real.

“I think we should ask her to walk with us,” Joy said.

I turned to look at Joy, stopping in the middle of the road. My brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Because it’s the nice thing to do.” An optimistic smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

“And your point is? It’s not like she’s nice to us.” I waved my hand toward Kennedy.

“Sometimes you have to be the bigger person.”

My scowl deepened. “I’m five feet two inches tall, Joy. Unless I’m talking to a toddler, I’m never the bigger person.”

Joy pursed her lips in the same way my mother did when she didn’t think I was funny. “You know what I mean, Tori. You have to figuratively be the bigger person.” She continued to the sidewalk.

I trudged behind, my shoulders drooping in defeat. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t want to be. She’s the one that lied.”

“If you sow kindness, you will reap kindness also.” The softness left Joy’s tone, and she spoke with a matter-of-factness that came off as condescending.

I stopped again, folded my arms across my chest, and stomped my foot. “Stop trying to make me be friends with her, Joy. She’s a backstabbing, two-faced bitch, and you know it.”

“Tori!” She clasped her hand over her mouth.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t talk like that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, Joy. I’m not talking to her and that’s it.”

Joy stared at the pavement the rest of the walk to school. I’d offended her, but I didn’t care. Talking to Kennedy would not make me feel better. As I stared at her in front of us, I thought about what she’d done, and anger surged through my veins. She’d betrayed me. Nothing she said would change that.