Daisy: Our fans don’t know that.
Megan: All 372 of them
I smile and type:
Daisy: I assume you’ll be refuting my claims in your post.
Even when she agrees with me, Megan strives to be contrarian.
Megan: Natch
Pause. Then she asks:
Megan: First day go okay?
Daisy: I think so. Do you ever wonder whether you’re making real friends if you have to lie to them about your life?
Megan: No. You made a FRIEND?
Daisy: Maybe
Megan: Not some geek in a study group, right? A real, living, breathing friend?
Daisy: The geeks were friends
Megan: You know what I mean.
Daisy: I do…. No, she’s cool. Her name is Audrey
Megan: Hey, D?
Daisy: Yeah?
Megan: Don’t question this to death, okay?
Daisy: I’ll try not to.
Megan: Okay good. Gotta go prove you wrong on the blog. Love you madly
Daisy: Love you more. Bye
six
“You don’t have plans today, do you?” Mason asks when I creep into the kitchen after too little sleep. Last night, I made the mistake of picking up the latest book in a sci-fi series at eight thirty. By ten o’clock, I was way too absorbed to put it down. I finally went to bed at two AM.
“No plans,” I grumble, easing into a chair. Mason flips over a pancake. “You’re cooking,” I observe. Mason’s actually a really good cook, but he rarely does it.
“You need a solid breakfast,” he replies. “We’re doing your annual checkup today.”
“Seriously?” I ask in protest. “No warning? And on Saturday?”
“Sorry, Daisy,” Mason says sympathetically. “I think it’s better if you don’t have warning; you don’t have time to get worried about it this way.”
“But why now?” I ask. “Testing doesn’t usually happen until closer to the anniversary.” The bus that went off the bridge into an icy lake and killed twenty-one people—seven for good—did so in early December. Testing usually happens at one-year intervals, as close to December 5 as possible.
Mason has a funny look on his face. “God asked for them early this year,” he says.
“That’s odd,” I say. “I don’t remember this ever happening before…. Has it?”