Back When You Were Easier to Love by Wing Smith Emily

Author:Wing Smith Emily
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2011-04-10T22:00:00+00:00

FEMALE BONDING

It’s crazy how some people you can see every day and you still aren’t comfortable talking to them, but others you go without talking to for months and in nine seconds it’s like no time has passed.

Tess’s got her MacBook flipped open and is sprawled perpendicular to me on the floor. It looks the same as the one she had when I left—white and skinny—but knowing Tess, it’s a safe bet that this is a newer, faster, superior version. I say, “Nice computer,” and she rattles off stuff about giggers and hard drives that she must know I don’t understand a word of. I love how familiar she sounds, how familiar she looks with her black-brown hair lanky around her chunky, college-girl glasses. Not that she’s actually in college, but in spirit Tess has been in college her whole life. It’s just who she is.

Jen’s curled up in a corner of Gretel’s four-poster bed, knitting. Her hands move so fast they almost look like they’re shaking, and there’s an ever-shrinking ball of teal-colored yarn at her feet. “So, should I be offended you didn’t tell me you were coming?” she asks, half smiling, half curious.

“Yeah,” says Tess. “You didn’t tell me, either. Should I feel left out?”

“The trip was totally last minute.”

“She barely even told me she was coming,” Gretel adds.

“Again, last minute.”

“Okay, so what exactly sparked this impromptu visit?” Jen looks right at me, her gray eyes skeptical and catlike. Her needles don’t slow even for a second.

Jen’s been knitting ever since I met her. I mean, she’s stopped to sleep and go to school and stuff, but if she can be doing two things at once, she is, and one of them is usually knitting. Apparently she went to this überprogressive elementary school, where this was actually part of the curriculum. Maybe they’re onto something—Jen can focus on two things at once better than I can focus on one thing at once.

“You know,” I tell her, “the girls in Haven are way into crafts, too. You’d fit in really well there.”

“Dude, do not say that.” Jen shakes her head. “I want no connection to that town or any of its . . .” She struggles for the words. “Its ... things.” She looks disgusted, and I can’t tell whether it’s because of Haven or because she couldn’t come up with a better word than “things.”

“You’re changing the subject, Joy,” says Tess.

“Yeah, answer my question!” Jen says. “Why was it so important to get here pronto that you couldn’t even give your friends a heads-up first?”

“Zan.” This time when I yawn I don’t bother hiding it. “Zan can’t wait.”

Tess and Jen both nod, and I’m relieved for my real friends, the ones who know me, the ones who know that’s all there is to it. Until Gretel says, “Oh, and she brought one of her Haven things with her.”

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