Free The Key to the Golden Firebird by Maureen Johnson

gloss, but sort of like this.”
    Palmer looked down at her own big feet. She quickly threw on her grocery-store flip-flops and hurried to the shower with her little basket. She preferred being the first one in and out. As she dripped and flip-flopped her way back, she stopped short when she heard Diana say Brooks’s name.
    â€œIs she really dating Vatiman?” Emma was asking.
    â€œThat’s what I heard. I don’t know. She doesn’t call me anymore.”
    â€œIsn’t Vatiman a dealer?”
    â€œSomething like that,” Diana said. “That girl Jamie I always see them with…psycho. Seriously. I had four classes with her last year. She’s a total head case.”
    â€œI heard that.”
    â€œBut you know Brooks,” Diana said. “It was just a matter of time.”
    One of them mumbled something. Palmer knew instinctively that it must have been about her.
    â€œI know,” Diana said. “It’s a shame. I really wish I could help.”
    Palmer stood there, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t like she could just turn around and leave. Quietly she came back over. As she’d expected, Diana and Emma pretended like nothing had been going on. Diana looked over as Palmer tried to dry herself without removing the towel.
    â€œThat was an amazing curve today, Palmer,” she said. “Really good. Are you going to a pitching coach?”
    â€œNo,” Palmer said.
    â€œYour arm is getting stronger.”
    â€œThanks.” Palmer hastily pulled on her shorts and her fleece top. She pulled her wet hair back into a heavy ponytail. Within a minute she was hefting her bag over her shoulder, ready to go.
    â€œSee you tomorrow,” she said softly.
    â€œDo you need a ride today?” Diana asked.
    â€œNo.” Palmer shook her head. “My mom is coming for me.”
    â€œHey,” Emma said. “Palmer.”
    Palmer stopped and turned around.
    â€œIs Brooks really dating Dave Vatiman?”
    â€œI guess.”
    Diana and Emma exchanged a look.
    â€œI have to go,” Palmer said.
    Her mother was waiting for her in the parking lot. Palmer climbed inside the minivan, roughly tossing her bags into the backseat. She didn’t speak for the first few minutes of the trip, prompting a few quick glances from her mother.
    â€œWhat are you going to do?” Palmer finally asked.
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œAbout Brooks.”
    â€œWhat about Brooks?”
    â€œAbout softball.”
    â€œWhat do you want me to do, Palm?” her mother asked. “I can’t make her play.”
    â€œSo you’re just going to let her quit?” she asked.
    â€œShe’s old enough to make that decision.”
    Palmer turned and stared out the window.
    â€œMay’s at work right now,” her mother said. “She’ll be back around seven. You can either warm up something when you get home, or you can wait and have dinner with her.”
    â€œFine.”
    â€œDon’t get upset, Palm.”
    Palmer had every reason to be upset. Every reason in the world. And the fact that her mother didn’t understand why made it even worse.
    In Palmer’s eyes, Brooks had given up everything and left her alone.
    Â 
    As she hung up her apron in the storage room after finishing her short evening shift, May’s eyes fell on her name tag. It read Lirpa . She’d been wearing it for three hours and hadn’t even noticed.
    She pulled the apron back down and went into the shop. Nell was leaning against the counter, eating her dinner, which consisted of painfully pungent kimchi and large squares of wiggly tofu.
    â€œWhat’s this?” May asked, holding up the tag. “I just fixed it.”
    â€œIt’s April, spelled backward.” Nell grinned, pinching up a clump of cabbage with her chopsticks. “Have fun finding the label maker again.”
    May tried to smile, because this was supposed to be funny. She