“You were besties with Abby Nora Ewing. In high school. We went to high school together. Heartwood Valley High? Same year, weren’t we?”
The color drains from Ziggy’s face. “Ohno,” she whispers.
“What?” I slip my arm around her.
“You were on student council.” Goldie pauses, her smile fading. “What’s wrong? Oh, crap, was I a complete wanker? Please don’t judge me based on high school Goldie. Adult Goldie is a lot nicer, I promise.”
“You were a wanker in high school and never told me?” Fletcher says as he retakes his seat and dumps a fistful of tartar sauce packets on the table. “I call foul. That would’ve evened the wanker tables in our relationship.”
“Everyone’s a wanker in high school. Most of us grow out of it.” She winces. “But not all of us.”
Fletcher coughs out ayour brother.
She elbows him while I toss a tartar sauce packet at him, hitting him square in the chest despite using my left hand. “I can still tell Coach to make you run extra laps.”
“Some of us don’t mind hard work.” He smirks.
Still taking digs at Goldie’s brother.
When he landed on the team, that annoyed me.
Now, I’d be amused—I was yesterday, when I was positive Fletcher was whining for show—except Ziggy’s still shrinking in her seat next to me.
My heart starts that slow slide toward panic.
Did Ziggy and Goldie hate each other in high school?
Is this a bad idea?
“Ziggy?” I murmur.
“Abby Nora dumped me,” she blurts to Goldie. “We’re not friends anymore.”
Goldie makes like a goldfish and goes bug-eyed and slack-jawed. “Wait, wait, wait. You and Abby Nora—you were still friends? Holt said you had a friend breakup, but I wouldn’t have thought—never mind. Not important what I thought. Ziggy. Girl. I know it hurts right now, but trust me, this is for the better.”
“What kind of name isAbby Nora?” Fletcher mutters to me.
“Both of her grandmothers,” Ziggy and Goldie say together, Goldie with an eye roll.
Pretty unusual if she’s not rolling her eyes at Fletcher or Silas.
Goldie doesn’t roll her eyes at anyone. She’s toorah-rah, you can do it.
So this is interesting.
“You weren’t at her baby shower, were you?” Ziggy asks Goldie.
“I don’t hang out with anyone from high school anymore.”
“No one?”
“The good ones moved away, and the Abby Noras stayed.”
“You don’t like her.”
Goldie winces. “How do I put this delicately…”
“Don’t be delicate,” Fletcher says. “Call her a fuckwanker.”
