But tonight?
Tonight, she was going to a hockey game with Gina if it killed her.
And at this rate, it just might.
The fluorescent lights of the daycare parking lot buzzed faintly above her, casting harsh little halos on the cracked pavement. Nettie trudged across the lot like a woman walking through molasses, each step weighted with embarrassment, exhaustion, and the kind of dread that only came from a day determined to chew her up and spit her out.
“Are you okay?”
Hours later, Nettie knew just how badly she looked at Gina’s exclamation of shock, followed by the dismay on her face.
“Do I look like I’m okay?”
“No. You look like you were wrestling a sealion – and lost – twice.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Okaaay, this is not going to work,” Gina clucked her tongue, pushing off the bumper of her car and marching toward Nettie, who was trudging across the parking lot warily, afraid that Fate or Karma would sideswipe her again with another dose of ‘Take This’ lobbed at her.
“You look like a wreck, and we’ve got to fix that.”
“I’m fine,” Nettie said automatically, even though she knew she wasn’t convincing anyone—not even herself.
“You’re not ‘fine’…”
“No,” Nettie admitted softly, “but I’m not going to impress someone either.”
“But you do have to look human—and not one that just crawled up from six feet under,” Gina shot back, her smirk wicked. “And before you ask—yes, I was watching a zombie movie this afternoon.”
“Instead of studying?” Nettie lifted a brow, trying to distract her friend from her mission.
“Meh.” Gina waved dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”
“You won’t be my doctor,” Nettie muttered.
That was the line. Always the line. Gina was a vault when it came to anything school-related: exams, grades, papers. But outside of that, her best friend was the medical equivalent of a gossip column. You had a rash? She had theories. Found a weird mole? She’d practically diagnose you on sight. But ask how she herself was doing? Fort Knox. The silence was enough to make you wonder if she was failing, though the bulletin board in her bedroom—chaotic and crowded with awards and certificates—proved the opposite.
“Come on,” Gina ordered, already grabbing Nettie by the wrist and tugging her toward the daycare.
Nettie dug her heels in, protesting, “Gina, I’m?—”
“Don’t say fine. I saw your palms - and your jeans,” Gina hissed through clenched teeth, throwing her a daggered look over her shoulder before cheerfully tossing greetings at the two women still inside the building. “Hey, Miss Knox. Hey, Mrs. Podeski, we won’t be but a minute!”
And then Nettie was being towed like an errant child through the hallway and straight into the staff restroom. The door slammed. The deadbolt clicked. The tiny tile room smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and hand soap.
“Strip.”
Nettie’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“I want to see those scrapes and make sure you don’t have dirt ground into them, plus I brought you clean clothes. I don’t care if we are late—but you are not looking like a hobo at the hockey game.”
“Nobody is going to see me…”
“I’m going to see you—right now—and a lot of you, I might add,” Gina snapped. Her hands went to her hips, her eyes sharp. “Now, everything but your bra and britches, lady.”
Nettie froze, her face heating as she slapped both hands across her modest chest and then over her still-clothed hips in a ridiculous attempt to shield herself. Speech failed her.
“Heaven help me from misplaced modesty,” Gina groaned before yanking up her own shirt. “We’ve got the same things, okay? I like boys and I’m studying to be a doctor. Can you give me a little credit? We’ve been besties for over ten years. I’ve seen you in a bikini. That’s practically the same thing.”
