to gather her hair into a ponytail, but then I guess she realized her hair was too short for that and turned the movement into an awkward shoulder stretch. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I really thought you were asleep. I should be, too. You know how sometimes you lie there staring at the ceiling for hours because, I don’t know, you’re thinking too much, and you know you should be sleeping, but there’s absolutely nothing you can do to make your body go along with that idea? It’s the worst, don’t you think?”
She was babbling. It was kind of adorable.
“Right?” she said, when I didn’t answer. “You get what I’m saying?”
“I get it.” I nodded, studying her.
She was dressed in a plain white T-shirt and threadbare blue sweatpants she’d gotten at a thrift store during one of our trips to Valencia Street. Her skin was still Southern California bronze, and her blue eyes were perfectly wide and round and locked on me. She was stammering a little, as though she wanted to fill the silence, her lips opening and closing and shifting around as she let out little ums and ahs, and I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to kiss her badly.
More than I’d ever wanted to kiss Midge, or Kevin, or anyone.
More than I’d ever known it was possible to want something.
“Anyway, sorry, I’ll leave you alone.” She whispered the words so quietly I wouldn’t have heard her over the music if I hadn’t been watching every movement of her lips. She turned back toward the door, nearly tripping as she spun around.
“Wait,” I said.
Tammy froze, her hand on the knob.
I stared at her—the rigid line of her tense shoulders, the hesitant set of her jaw, the freshly shorn hair curling past her ears—and that was when I knew it was true. Everything I’ve been afraid of.
People like Anita Bryant and Senator Briggs, and Tammy’s aunt, too—they hate me. They could come after me, the same way they’ve come after so many others.
And Mom. Oh, God. What about Mom?
“Sharon?” Tammy asked, half-turning back to me. “Are you okay?”
I was crying by then. Tears dripped down my cheeks in a sloppy mess, right in front of Tammy.
“I, um… You probably want me to go.” She looked down and drew in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll, ah, I’ll see you…”
She reached for the doorknob. It took her three tries to pull it open and step through.
I wanted to tell her to wait. I wanted to tell her to stay. I wanted to beg her to stay there with me.
But she was already sliding the door shut silently behind her.
Yours, Sharon
Tuesday, June 27, 1978
Dear Sharon,
Hey, so. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, again.
It’s obvious I screwed up your life by coming here. Besides, it’s past time I found somewhere else to live. You and your family have been so generous to me, and I need to stop taking advantage of that.
You probably won’t read this until tomorrow, if you read it at all. I’m sticking it under your door now, but it’s been more than an hour since you left your brother’s room and you’re probably asleep. I’ll try to be out of the house before you wake up.
I’m so, so sorry, Sharon.
Yours, Tammy
Tuesday, June 27, 1978
Dear Tammy,
Oh, my gosh, no, please don’t leave! I’m sorry I’ve been so horrible lately, but I don’t want you to go.
I’m going to sneak downstairs and leave this for you after you’re already asleep so you’ll find it as soon as you wake up. Seriously, please, I can’t stand the idea of you living anywhere but here.
I just… I don’t know. I need to think more. I’m sorry.
Yours, Sharon
P.S. I was awake when you slid that letter under my door. I wanted to get up and let you in, but I was afraid