me on that day, and she made an effort to come and see me.
A huge smile came to my face before I wrapped her in a hug.
“Kee Kee,” Mari said, her voice strangled. “I know you missed me, but I can’t breathe!”
I stepped back, letting her go, really looking her over. Mari was one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever seen. She had dark hair, hazel eyes, and the prettiest skin. She never got over the kid in our neighborhood making fun of her nose, though. She fixated on the one thing she felt was wrong with her, instead of everything that was right. Which was everything.
But I always judged how she was doing (because she’d never truly tell me) by how skinny she looked. She always looked like she needed to eat for days without a break.
“I haven’t seen you,” I said, trying to downplay my worry. It was a delicate balance with her. “Where’ve you been?”
Mari adjusted the old leather backpack she carried everywhere before she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Here and there.” She grinned.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing!”
I pointed at her. “Too fast!”
She laughed, and it made me smile. Her life was hard, and with her being so hardheaded about letting people help her, she didn’t smile or laugh nearly enough. Her refusal of help actually frustrated me to tears sometimes.
“No.” She drew the word out. “Nothing’s going on. Your bullshit detector is off. You need to see a handyman about getting that fixed.”
“Not likely,” I said, making a mental note to get it out of her sooner or later. I was just relieved to see her. Sometimes she’d disappear on me, and when I was close to calling every hospital in New York to find her, she’d pop up. “Where have you been?”
“Slick,” she said, adjusting the backpack again, “you just asked me that. But you know I’ve been doing the same things I usually do. Survive. Work. Survive. Rinse. Repeat.”
“Uh huh.” I shook my head. “Whatever you’re up to, you know eventually you’re going to have to come clean.”
“Eventually.” Her grin was deep. Then she shrugged. “It always seems like I show up on this day, right? It’s kind of weird. It’s like my internal magnet brings me here. Maybe because Jocelyn and Pops took me in around this time.”
“Yeah,” I said, turning from her and taking the hatbox from my old vanity. It had been my grandmother’s. “Maybe that’s it.”
“Where are you going?” she said, stepping deeper into the room. “You’re all dressed up.”
“I took on a shift at a fancy restaurant. I can use the—”
“Extra dollar,” Harrison said, coming to stand next to Mari.
I eyed both of them. Harrison could never take his eyes off of Mari. When I first saw Mari, so did he, and sometimes it was a struggle to get him to leave her alone. I’d have to shut the door to my room so he wouldn’t bother us when we were younger. He gave her a pathetic nickname, Strings, and treated her like he did me. Like a sister.
Sometimes he was more protective of her than he was of me. It didn’t bother me, because we both seemed to have a silent understanding. Mari came to us for a reason after Roisin was killed, even if our Mam didn’t see it that way. She hated when Harrison showed Mari attention, even more than she hated when I did.
“You picked Mari up?” I gave Harrison a glower and he gave me a narrow. None of the boys messed with me. I’d beat all of their asses. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I stopped by Home Run to see if Mari needed a ride home, since it’s fucking freezing. She told me she was coming here. So was I. Here we are.”
“You were coming here, too?”
“Yeah.” He gave me a long enough stare to try and communicate silently—today is hard for me, too.
I nodded, tucking a wild curl behind my ear.
Mari took a seat on my bed, while Harrison stood in the doorway. They both watched me while I put the hatbox on the top shelf of my closet and then pulled out my nicest coat. It was old, and emerald green, but I’d taken good care of it over the years.
“Mari and I made plans to eat at Mamma’s,” Harrison said. “We thought you’d come with us, but if you have to work, we’ll drop you off.”