I haven’t showered. I probably—okay,definitely—smell.
I pull my hair back into a ponytail as if it’s really going to matter. There’s trash and dirty dishes everywhere.
“Coming.” It comes out like a croak.
As soon as I open the door, Bridget swoops in. “Oh my goodness! Darling, you look terrible.”
Someone’s rigged up a ramp, so June rolls right in, and before I can close the door, a line of my friends pours in too.
Sloane lifts up her aviator sunglasses—still effortlessly cool even in December—and places them on top of her head. “This is an intervention.”
“What?” I hate the concern on everyone’s faces. “I’m fine,” I croak again. My voice sounds like Robert Goulet on that Christmas special my grandmother made me watch every year.
“You’re sick, but it’s nothing we can’t fix,” Bridget says. “Girls, come in, come in.”
Everyone’s armed with containers of Clorox bleach wipes and gloves. Annie is holding a small bouquet of dahlias. My absolute favorite, and a miracle find at this time of year. I wonder where she even got them.
Bridget leans over and opens the window. “Gotta let the germs out. It’s a trick my mother taught me,” she says matter-of-factly. “The house needs to breathe.”
Zoe shrugs. “Sorry. I was afraid of what they’d do if I didn’t agree to let them help. Peer pressure won.”
“Oh, come on. Didn’t you watch the afterschool specials?”
I don’t know where all this humor is coming from. Maybe I’m still high from the cold medicine.
Annie grasps my shoulders. “Listen, the girls are going to get the house cleaned, and I’m getting you ready.”
I yawn and plaster a hand over my mouth, speaking around it. I’m grossing myself out. “Ready for what?”
“To rejoin the land of the living.” Annie has a dumb hat on her head. This one is a floral-printed trucker hat with a wide black brim and “Unlikeable Heroine” stitched in Kelly green across the front.
“My job is to get you looking like a person again.”
“Ugh.” I frown.
“Pouting doesn’t work,” she says. “Come on. You forget who I grew up with?”
A small ache radiates in my chest. Right. That’s why I’ve been hiding away in my house. Fighting off the plague and heartbreak at the same time should be illegal.
I try wiping off the stain on Jack’s sweatshirt. It’seither chicken noodle soup or just salt stains from my tears. “I broke up with Jack,” I confess, glancing around at everyone.
They all stare at me, then nod, concern laced in their eyes.
“We’re not here to judge,” Sloane says. “Only to help. You’d do the same for us.”
“My brothers are all asshats sometimes. Just ask Sloane.” Before I can get confirmation, Annie grips me by my shoulders and steers me down the hallway to my bedroom. “You’re going to take a shower, and we’re going out.”
I whirl around. “I’m absolutelynotgoing out.”
“Yes, we are.”
“I still feel like death.”
“But you have a really sexy voice when you’re sick. Can’t let it go to waste.”
“I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
“Let’s find something to wear.”
