A pulse of shock slams through my body, and I glance at the ring then at June’s wide-eyed expression. “No,” I say. “No, August said he picked it up in a shop.”
He did, right? I can’t remember now.
“No way,” May says emphatically. “That’s Nanna’s ring!”
“Why would he—” I bite my lip. I can’t ask. Not them, at any rate. I amend my denial. “He would have said it was hers.”
“Hmm.” June tilts her head, peering at me as though trying to crack open my mind and read it.
Good thing she can’t. All she’d hear right now is:What the fuck!?!Over and over.
“He’d definitely tell you,” she agrees.
“Well, why the fuck didn’t he?” May argues. “Because that’s the ring!”
“We might be wrong,” June says. “It’s been years since I’ve seen it.”
“I think I’d remember a stone that big.” May huffs. “Thing must be eight carats. An authentic Kashmir sapphire. It was Nanna’s pride and joy.”
The ring seems to wink at me, as if to say,How you like me now?I don’t know, to be honest. I’m obviously giving it back after all this. But if it’s his grandmother’s? God, what if I lost it? Iwon’t. I’m never taking it off. But if Idid, an heirloom isn’t easily replaceable by an insurance check.
“We were eight when she last wore it,” June says sternly. “All I remember is it being big and pretty.”
“Well, I—” May shuts up when June glances back at her.
I don’t know if it’s for my benefit or what. I’m too busy wondering if May is right and, if so, why would he give me something irreplaceable? The worst part is I don’t want to ask him. How humiliating would it be if he laughed and said,Now, come on, Pen, would I really give you a family heirloom?in that way of his. Awful.
“You’re probably right,” May grumbles. “It has been a while.”
Awkward silence swells, threatening to burst. I turn into my grandparents’ neighborhood.
“You’re finally moving into Pops and Pegs’s house?” June asks. The thoughtful tone makes it sound more like a statement than a question, but I answer it anyway.
“Yeah.”
May leans forward, holding on to the seat back in front of her so her face hovers between me and June. “But you didn’t have the money— Oh, August is paying it, isn’t he?”
It’s the truth in the simplest sense. Even so, it’s as though I’ve been kicked. My hand tightens on the wheel. I don’t miss the way June shoots May a repressive glare.
“You don’t...” The words get caught up on my tongue. “You don’t think I’d use August that way, do you?”
They’re silent.
“Do you?” I ask again, sharper with hurt.
June touches my hand. “No!No, we don’t.” She gives May a warning look. “Do we.”
It isn’t a question so much as a directive.
May colors. “No, no, of course not. We know that’s not you—what are we supposed to think?” she wails. “I’m so confused. Last time we were together, you could barely look at him—”
“There were definite sparks between them,” June murmurs. “Despite all protests to the contrary.”
Were there? I know I felt them. But had August? I shake myself out of speculation. Now isn’t the time. My friends are still on a tear.
“And you never, ever made eyes at August,” May rolls on. “March, I could understand. But August? Most of the time you two act like strangers to each other.”
“Well, we don’t anymore,” I mutter.
