He glanced at the CD as if he'd forgotten it, and put down the milk carton. Phillip followed them into the hallway.
"Hey, buddy, you wait out here while she gets dressed. "
James barely turned. "Get a life, Phil, " he said almost absently.
"Just keep your hands off my sister, you deve. "
Poppy just shook her head as she went into her room. As if James cared about seeing her undressed.
If only, she thought grimly, pulling a pair of shorts out of a drawer. She stepped into them, still shaking her head. James was her best friend, her very best friend, and she was his. But he'd never shown even the slightest desire to get his hands on her. Sometimes she wondered if he realized she was a girl.
Someday I'm going to make him see, she thought, and shouted out the door for him.
James came in and smiled at her. It was a smile other people rarely saw, not a taunting or ironic grin, but a nice little smile, slightly crooked.
"Sorry about the doctor thing, " Poppy said.
"No. You should go. " James gave her a keen glance. "Your mom's right, you know. This has been going on way too long. You've lost weight; it's keeping you up at night-"
Poppy looked at him, startled. She hadn't told anybody about how the pain was worse at night, not even James. But sometimes James just knew things. As if he could read her mind.
"I just know you, that's all, " he said, and then gave her a mischievous sideways glance as she stared at him. He unwrapped the CD.
Poppy shrugged and flopped on her bed, staring at the ceiling. "Anyway, I wish Mom would let me have one day of vacation, " she said. She craned her neck to look at James speculatively. "I wish I had a mom like yours. Mine's always worrying and trying to fix me. "
"And mine doesn't really care if I come or go. So which is worse?" James said wryly.
"Your parents let you have your own apartment. "