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situation,Ineededtobementallypreparedforit.
    “Whatdayisit?”Iasked,mullingsomethingoverinmymind.
    “It'sSunday.Why?”
    “Willyoucomewithme?”Iasked,givinghishandasqueeze.“To Ronnie's...willyougo?”
    Hesqueezedmyhandinreturn.
    “Gogetcleanedup.I'lladdressyourregurgitatedbreakfastwhile youdo.Wecanleaveassoonasyou'reready.”
    “Thanks,Cooper,”Ireplied,wantingtosaymorethanIcouldbring myselfto.Wehadsoeasilyfallenbackintoourfriendship,andIwanted toacknowledgeit,butIknewmysentimentswouldsomehowbotchthe moment.
    IhopedthatPeytaandIwouldbeabletomendjustasquickly.

    *

    Thedriveprovedunbearablylong,yetpainfullyshort.Cooper guidedthecaralongthefamiliarroutewhileIfrettedawayinthe passengerseat.AsmuchasIwasdyingtoseePeyta,asmallpartofme wasterrifiedbythepotentialcomplicationsoftheencounterandwanted toavoidthematallcosts.IknewCooperwasspeakingtome,tryingto calmme,butIheardnothing.Thevoicesofdoubtinmyminddrowned outallothersound.
    WhenweturnedintoRonnie'sdriveway,Ifeltasthoughsomeone wassittingonmychest.Thepressurewasintense,nearlypiercingmy heart.
    “Didyoucallbeforeweleft?”Cooperasked,parkinginfrontofthe garage.
    “No,”Iwhispered.“Ithoughtitwouldn'tmatter.Besides...Ididn't knowwhattosay.”
    “Well,Iguessit’samootpointnow.Let'sgetthisoverwith,shall we?”Hepoppedopenhisdoorandgotoutofthecar.IstayedwhereI was.
    Hepausedpartwayupthepathtothehouse,lookingbacktoseeifI wascoming.HesighedheavilywhenherealizedIwasn'tfollowing.
    “Ruby,”hecalled,makinghiswaybacktothecar.“Youneedtoget outand―”
    Thefrontdooropenedabruptly,snappingourcollectiveattention backtothehouse.OutsteppedPeytawithanexpressionI'dneverseen herwear—disbelief.Notonce,inallthatshe'dbeenthrough,hadIseen
    'doesnotcompute'registeronherface.Thatday,Idid.
    Isprangfromthecarwithanimmediateneedtoholdher,butbythe timeImademywaytoCooper,sheworeaverydifferentfaceentirely.I didn'tlikeitonebit.I'dseenthatfacetoomanytimestocount,butnever onher.Stoicindifferencelookedallsortsofwrongonher,butsheworeit likeaveteran—hermother'sdaughterforsure.
    “Peyta?”IcalledtoherasCoopergrabbedmyarm.Itriedtopull awayfromhim,butheheldmefirmlywhereIwas.HefeltwhatI couldn'tfeelbecauseofmyownfear— anger .
    “Whendidyougetback?”sheasked.Hervoicewaseerily controlled.That'swhenIfirstfeltthehostilityrollingoffofherinwaves solargeIthoughttheywouldhavewashedmeawayifCooperhadn'theld mesteady.
    “Yesterday,”Cooperoffered.
    “Howdidyougetback?”sheasked,foldingherarms.
    “P,”Istarted,tryingyetagaintomovetowardher.Cooper'shold wasunyielding.
    “Whydidn'tyoucall?”
    “TherewassomuchtosortoutwhenIgotback,”Isaid,hesitating.
    Shewasright;Ishouldhavecalled.Afriendwouldhavecalled—so wouldasister.
    “Isee,”shereplied,hervoicecolderthanice.
    “You'reangry,”Isaid,tryingtoplacateher.
    “Iwouldhavecalled,”shesaidquietly.
    “I'msorry,Peyta.Ireallyam,”Ipleaded.“Pleaseletmeexplain.”
    “Idon'tneedanexplanation,”shesaid,turningbacktothedoor.
    “I'mgladyou'reback.”
    Shewalkedinsideandclosedthedoor,leavingCooperandme dumbfoundedinthedriveway.
    “Whatjusthappened?”Iaskedhim,lookingupforasigninhis expression.Ifoundnone.
    “Ihavenoidea.”
    “Ican'tleaveitlikethis,Coop,”Isaid,feelinghelpless.
    “Thenfixit,”herepliedwithoutanywordsofwisdom.“You'rethe onlyonewhocan.”
    IthoughtaboutthegirlIknew—thehappy,lovingsprite,whose powersofsarcasmrivaledmyown.Ithoughtaboutwhatshemeanttome andItoher.ThenIthoughtabouthowIwouldhavefeltifshe'dleft withoutatrace,withoutanyreasonableexplanation.HowwouldIhave dealtwithherabsence?Howexhaustingwouldithavebeentokeepupa façadeofoptimismwhileinsideIfeltpartofmysoulerodingslowly?
    Peytahadanuncannyabilitytomakesenseoutoftheinsensible becauseherviewoflifewasblackandwhite.Shadesofgraydidn'tmatter toheratall.WhenshehadlearnedwhatCooperandIwere,sheaccepted itwithoutasecondthoughtbecausesheknewusandlovedus.Thatwas whatmatteredtoher;whatweweredidnot.Sowhydidthe'why'matter somuchtoherinthatmoment?Iwashomeandthatwaswhatshe