gesture, drawing an X over her heart, and it doesn’t feel ridiculous, the childhood oath.
It feels like a summoning of our past, the whole of it, playground games and spend-the-nights, that time we went to the beach together, playing with Barbies, whispering secrets in each other’s ears.
How I knew she had to feel left out sometimes, hell, lots of times, with me and Imani.
Everyone plays their part.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I’m sorry I ever hurt you, and I’m sorry for not letting you talk to me. To us. I’m sorry for the cold shoulder.”
“It’s okay.” Blair waves it away with her hand.
“No, it wasn’t right either.” I shake my head, embarrassed of how it had felt good to punish her.
“Okay.” Blair nods. “Thank you for saying that.” But when she glances up at me again, her eyes are shining.
I’ve never actually seen her cry before.
“Hey!” It’s my turn to want to pat-pat at her. To dab away impending tears with the press of my hands. “Don’t cry.”
Blair lets out a sob.
“Hey! What did I say?” I fret.
“I can’t help it, I love you,” Blair says, her voice a warble of tears.
“I love you, too.” My voice is frog-strangled, too.
We hug, and it feels like wringing out all the bad, and then soaking in the good, okay, except more elegant than that, but that clean feeling, at last.
We sit back, smiling.
“Friends again. Forever,” I say.
Blair stretches out a hand, and I put mine in hers.
“Damn straight,” she says.
Below us, the zombies groan and seethe, but up here there is space and air.
* * *
? ? ?
After we recover ourselves, Blair and I stand and walk back to where Siggy and Imani are waiting, a little separated from the rest of the group.
Imani runs up and touches Blair’s arm, smiling because we are.
Siggy is frowning, not in anger but in skepticism, and I want to kiss her cute mama-hen heart.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “We had it out.”
“Yeah,” Blair says. “I’m sorry. I guess I hurt us all, huh?”
Siggy watches Blair’s eyes closely.
Imani opens her arms and Blair steps into them. “Oh, good,” Imani says. “I couldn’t stand it. Either of you hurting. Or fighting.”
“It’s not gonna happen again,” Blair promises.
Siggy doesn’t look hostile, but she’s not warming up completely, either.
“Siggy?” Blair asks, when Imani lets go of the hug.
Siggy takes a deep breath. “I just want this to be real. To last.”
“I promise, you’ll see,” Blair says. “I am gonna be like Scrooge, you know? Better than my word.”
“Me too!” I promise.
Siggy studies our faces for a moment, and then she can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of her mouth. The lingering tension in her forehead relaxes.
“Well, okay,” she says. “That’s better.”
And you know, it actually does feel better. Like we’ve opened a window, somehow.
Hunter’s voice calls to us from the mixing board. “Okay, we’re all set!”
Siggy hugs Blair and then Blair lets go and turns, pulling me into a hug, squeezing me way, way too tight. And that’s why I can’t breathe. That’s why my eyes are tearing.
Whatever.
We pull apart, and I swipe at my eyes. We walk back to the others, Hunter, Simon, and Annie, waiting for us in the center of the balcony.
Everyone is ready, determined looks on all our faces.
“Okay. Go time,” I say.
But first everyone moves in, the same unspoken instinct. To hold close, to huddle up. So we all hug, not just me, but each other, a standing puppy-pile of arms and elbows and heads.
Team Turtle is going in, one last time. All or nothing, baby.
35
You got this, June. You can do this,” I chatter under