Page 33 of Friends Don't

“Even if he’s a cheater?”

I shift in my seat. I don’t like the thought of that, but I also know how rumors can fly, and I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt—or at least let him speak for himself on the matter. “I’d like to hear his side of the story.”

Rose frowns. “I guess there’s always two sides in situations like this.”

“Exactly. I can’t put my finger on it, but Mack’s body language wasn’t that of someone who was guilty when he ran into Tricia. He was tense, sure, but it was like it was because he was holding something back, not because he was ashamed.”

“You got all that from standing next to him on the sidewalk?”

“I don’t know,” I say, picking up my avocado-and-chicken sandwich. “I feel like I can read Mack. Maybe he’ll tell me what really happened someday.”

“Maybe,” Rose says around a bite of her Mediterranean salad, not looking convinced.

I glance over her shoulder to where Mack is packing up his tools. Inez is arguing with him, and I’m guessing she’s trying to pay him for his time, but he’s shaking his head.

I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something about Mack Bradley that screamsgood guy.

He catches me staring and holds my gaze for a heartbeat before turning and making his departure.

I feel a tug in my chest as the door swings shut behind him, and I recognize it for what it is. It’s the same sort of feeling I get in my gut when my sisters need me—in those moments when I know I have to step up and go to bat for them.

Like when Rose was five minutes late for dance tryouts her junior year of high school because she was coming from her part-time job, and the coaches wouldn’t let her audition because they said her lack of punctuality was indicative of her lack of dedication. You better believe I had a word with them about the meaning of dedication, and how Rose was doing a heck of a lot more than anyone else on that team when it came to her dedication to her family and keeping the lights on at our house.

Or when Noli was in tears because some mean girls kept making fun of her second-hand clothes. I called their parents up and told them they should be ashamed of their daughters’ behavior. Yes, I was quaking in my boots to talk to adults who were a solid twenty years older than me, but I did it. Because I show up for my people.

I can’t explain it, but I want to be there for Mack. I want to befriend him.

I only hope he lets me.

10

A Modern-day Batwoman

Mack

To:[email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Email 2

Dear Holland,

I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness lately. And no, before you ask, you haven’t done anything wrong! ? It’s general ruminations on my part. When does someone deserve to be forgiven? And if we forgive, does it mean we’re turning a blind eye to the wrongful behavior? I haven’t told you much about my dad, but suffice it to say, he bailed on our family when we needed him the most. I’ve been trying to come to terms with that betrayal ever since.

I’m sorry if this seems heavy. I’ve been thinking a lot about how we form opinions of people and how we judge them. What’s fair? What’s not? How much of someone’s past should we hold against them?

I’m going to stop there because I’m sure when you open this account, you aren’t expecting to be accosted by deep issues of morality. I’ll try to tone it down in the future. Thanks for letting me think out loud—er, on paper.

Sending a smooch,

Poppy

My phone is screaming at me from the kitchen as I turn off the water in the shower. It’s late—pushing ten o’clock. I got caught out at the job site, and then I ended up spending a half hour looking up at the sky. I swear, Poppy is on to something with that.

I hop on one foot and get into a pair of athletic shorts, looping my towel over my shoulders as I jog to my kitchen.

I manage to answer before the final ring. “Hey, Collin.”

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