Free Thirteen Plus One by Lauren Myracle Page A

The flower boxes were one of Dinah’s favorite projects to care for, and I couldn’t count the times I’d basked in the sun on her front steps as she moved from blossom to blossom with her big-spouted watering can.
    Dinah hadn’t planted this year’s flowers yet.
    Cinnamon rang the doorbell. “Remember,” she instructed me, “be cool.”
    “I’m always cool,” I replied.
    “Well, be kind,” she elaborated.
    I’m always kind, I almost said, but stopped myself.
    She rang the bell again, then rapped on the door.
    “Coming!” we heard Dinah call. There were thunky footfalls, and she opened the door. She was pale, and her eyes were puffy.
    “Oh,” she said when she saw it was us.
    I hesitated, then stepped forward and hugged her. Cinnamon joined in so that we made a Dinah-sandwich.
    “Hey there, troublemaker,” Cinnamon said, giving her a noogie. “Got a smoke for your old bud Cinnamon?”
    Dinah smiled wanly. “No. I’ve got Diet Sierra Mist, though.”
    Cinnamon gagged. She had Sierra Mist issues, and Diet Sierra Mist in particular. But we followed Dinah into her kitchen, where she served us drinks and Veggie Booty, which was like cheese puffs, only not at all, because it was made from spinach and kale.
    “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” said Cinnamon, who had Veggie Booty issues as well.
    “No, not trying to kill you,” Dinah said listlessly. “You don’t have to eat it.”
    Cinnamon grabbed the bag. “Fine, fine, I’ll eat it.” She popped a handful into her mouth, leaving the next move to me.
    “So, um ... how’re things?” I said.
    Dinah’s eyes found mine. Her expression made my heart lurch, and I had the sudden and awful feeling that I had done something wrong. Me, and not Dinah. But why would I think that?
    “Do you guys ...” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do y’all ever ...”
    “Do we ever what ?” I said, my heart pounding.
    Tears welled in Dinah’s eyes, which made tears spring to my eyes. “Do you ever feel lonely inside? Like ... there’s a great big gaping hole where your ribs are?”
    I did know that feeling. I knew it well, though I was startled to hear it described so perfectly.
    “And it comes out of nowhere?” I said. “Yes. But it makes no sense, because I have y’all ... so why should I feel lonely?” I shifted uncomfortably, but pressed on. “I mean, what do I have to feel sad about?”
    “I get that feeling, too,” Cinnamon said. I turned to her in surprise. “But it’s not behind my ribs. It’s more ...” She cleared her throat, as if a piece of Veggie Booty, or something else, was clogging the works. “It’s more inside my heart. And when it comes, it comes. And all I can do is ride it out.”
    Dinah reached over to squeeze Cinnamon’s hand, but Cinnamon jerked her hand away. She shoved it back in the Veggie Booty bag and grabbed a fresh handful.
    “No, don’t,” Cinnamon said, making a weird laugh sound. “Who said life was easy, right?”
    I swallowed. I asked Dinah, “So you’ve been feeling lonely?”
    Silence.
    I forced myself to look at her, to honestly and openly look at her ... and that was all it took. Her chin trembled, and her story came pouring out. Or rather, her confession. Except instead of I did this and this and this, it was I am this and this and this.
    She was weak, she said, for getting sucked into Mary’s lies. She was dumb for not telling anyone what was going on, especially me and Cinnamon. She was ashamed that her dad had to be called in to talk to the counselor. And finally, she was really really really sorry for making such a mess of things. For being so stupid and needy.
    “Dinah, no,” I said. “You’re not stupid. Mary’s stupid. It’s her fault, not yours.”
    My response seemed to frustrate her, or maybe deepen her despair. She rubbed her forehead. “But do y’all accept my apology?”
    “For not telling us about the great makeup scandal?” Cinnamon said. “Dude,