Harrison picks us up as usual, and she’s smiling. “Good day?” I guess she doesn’t know. “All right,” I say. Edie shrugs and gets into the passenger seat beside her mother. I hold my breath, waiting, but she doesn’t say anything. Which doesn’t mean she won’t. I can’t relax yet. “I thought we’d get a movie this evening,” Mrs. Harrison says. “Friday night! I bet your bodies will be glad of a little rest this weekend.” In the back seat, I buckle my seat belt. “Definitely,” I say. My legs feel as weak as a toddler’s and my left hip hurts, and my toes— well, I don’t even want to think about my toes. “Can Melissa come over?” Edie says. “And can we get that ballet movie? The new one, that documentary?” “What a nice idea,” her mother says. I didn’t think things could get worse, but they just did. I can’t imagine spending the evening with Edie and Melissa. Maybe I’ll pretend to be sick and just go to bed. * * * When we get back to the house, I head up to my room.
