The door bell rings, and I want to hide.
Too late. There she is.
I watch Michaela warily. She is wearing her favorite hoodie and a scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. Her blue eyes are damp, and her nose shines raw pink from cold. Michaela’s long brown hair is dotted with the occasional snowflake. If we were still friends, I would have giggled.
Our eyes meet. “Hi, Ally,” she greets me in a tone of too-cheeriness, trying to break the awkward silence.
I am stiff. “Hello, Michaela,” I reply tensely.
Thank God, she drops the fake voice. “Listen, Ally,” she begins earnestly, “I am sorry. Really, I am! I don’t know how it got around the school.”
I pause, not believing her. “So you’re telling me that you didn’t tell a soul?”
Guilty silence.
“Ally, I’m really sorry. I told Gemma, but she swore not to tell anyone! I just really, really wanted you two to be friends and I thought I should give her the whole picture.”
“Uh huh.”
“No, REALLY !”
I turn around and run upstairs, wondering if Mi can hear me sob.