“Bless This House” inside a frame. Although our homes were built the same year by the same company, and had almost the same layout except for a few small differences—in Meg’s house, the L of the kitchen swung left, while at mine it swung right—inside they were worlds apart. Mrs. Dill decorated her rooms with complete furniture and fabric sets from Pottery Barn so everything matched. They weren’t littered with fifteen different things from eight different trips abroad, the way ours were. Meg’s house always looked so much more like the houses we saw on sitcoms and in movies, and sometimes I envied her for that.
“Hello?” I called from the stairs.
I heard the door to Meg’s room open, then close, and Meg came bounding down the hall.
“Hi, you,” I said.
She didn’t stop but instead, hugged me tight and fast. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you called. Come,” she said, grabbing my elbow and tugging me back toward the door. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Just before I swiveled to follow her, I heard voices coming from Meg’s parents’ room and loud music from Mary’s.
Outside, Meg jerked her head toward the woods behind her house and I went along, still unable to get a look at her face. But something in the way her shoulders squared off at right angles told me all was not well. Once we stepped through the wall of trees that lined the Dills’ yard, I tugged at the back of her tank top.
“What’s up?” I asked softly.
She turned to me, looking a bit guilty. “I needed someone to talk to, but I was afraid to call,” she said, like an apology.
“Well, I’m here.”
Meg looked down at the dirt and rocks surrounding our feet, then back up at me. “My dad was out all night last night. He came home this morning and . . .” She stopped, and her eyes swept across my face. “You seem different. Are you okay?”
“Something happened today. But I’ll tell you later. Your dad was out all night and he came home and . . .”
Meg paused, then shook her head. “No, it’ll be fine. It’s no big deal. He and my mom just had a wicked fight, and it kind of freaked me out. I want to hear about the thing that happened to you.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. It was strange to be the one putting a hand on my friend’s elbow and sounding concerned.
“Positive,” Meg said, and she motioned for me to keep walking. So we shuffled our usual way through the woods, past the neighbors’ houses, up the hill to a flat rock that was always just big enough for the two of us. I told Meg about Masher and the vet and Eve and the job.
“That is awful but good about the job,” said Meg. “So I’m guessing you’re not coming back to school this year?” She said this with a forced casualness, especially the “back to school” part, throwing her glance at the treetops.
“I’m not ready. There’s only two weeks left, anyway, right?”
Meg nodded but kept staring up. I wasn’t sure if my not being at school made things harder or easier for her.
“You should email Joe,” she said finally.
“That ship has sailed,” I replied flatly. “Gone.”
“Oh, I think that ship might just be circling the harbor. He asked about you a couple times.”
“If he wanted to know how I was, he could have emailed me.”
Meg shrugged. “He’s a guy. What do you expect?”
I had no answer to that. We were silent for a few moments.
“Hey, do you want to see my pictures from Six Flags?” she said suddenly. “Some of them are hilarious.”
“Maybe some other time.” Or never. I had no desire to see the rest of my classmates having a totally fun, normal, end-of-school trip to the amusement park.
We paused again. This time, I was the one who felt the need to fill the void.
“So do they still talk about me? About prom night?”
Meg paused. “No, I think they stopped. Lucky for you, someone smashed up four of the front windows in the science wing, and that’s the hot topic right now.”
“When they find out who did it,” I said, “remind me to thank them.”
Meg smiled and then turned serious. She reached out and touched me on the shoulder.
“It’s going to be a good summer, Laurel. We’ll make it a good summer.”
She was right, and I hugged her, and while we had our arms around each other I made a