“You’re tired,” I say feeling smug that I don’t feel tired at all.
“Yeah,” she replies. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. Brielle and I had a pajama party.”
A pajama party. I didn’t realize Henri was such a girl. I guess when no one’s looking, she likes to play with dolls and stuff.
She brightens up when she sees her house. “It’s that one there,” she says as she points at Elle’s pink house.
“I know,” I say feeling surly. “I slept there last night. Remember?”
“How would I know where you slept?” she counters. “Could have been a garbage dumpster.”
“We weren’t gonna fight. Remember?”
“You started it,” she grumbles.
She’s kind of right but I’m not gonna admit it. Instead, I say, “You got a key?”
“Yes. Same place my phone is. At your house.”
“Switching us was the lamest thing my dad has ever done.”
“Yeah. My mom too.”
We stand there for a moment, confused that we just agreed on something, then I say, “I guess we’ll have to ring the bell.”
Which we do, three times. No one answers.
“Just a sec,” Henri says as she roots around inside a plant. “Sometimes gramma keeps a key—yup, here it is.” She holds it up triumphantly.
I bite my tongue, but why not think of that first?
She lets us in and we tiptoe up to Selkie’s bedroom. I don’t know why we’re being so quiet. No one answered the bell. No one’s gonna be home.
Henri stares at Selkie’s empty bed, then takes a swipe at her eyes.
I think about puttin’ my arm around her shoulder but turn my back instead and walk out of the room. It’s not a guy move, or maybe it is. I know she doesn’t want me to feel bad for her or see her crying.
I end up at the kitchen and grab some peanut butter and bread out of the pantry and make us some sandwiches.
“Grandma’s not here either,” she says as she walks in. Then, “What’re you doing?”
“Makin’ sandwiches,” I reply bluntly as I hand her one. “And thinking about what to do next.”
“Thinkin’ makes you hungry?” she mumbles around a mouthful of peanut butter and bread.
I grin as I swallow my bite. “Everything makes me hungry.”
She laughs lightly, then eats all the insides of the sandwich and piles the crusts on the counter. I already knew she did this because I’ve seen her do it at school. In fact, there’s not much I don’t know about Henri, which is really weird when I think about it.
I finish off my sandwich. “Let’s go,” I say as I wipe my hands on dish towel.
“Wait.” Henri climbs up on the counter.
“What’re you doing?”
“We need some money.” She roots around the top shelf of a cabinet, then pulls out a lidless jar. She frowns. “Nothing in here.” She hops down and puts the jar next to her crusts.
“Your mom keeps money in that jar?”
