Mom swims. I nap. Jodi cheers for Dr. Phil. Fifteen days of living in someone else’s house is exhausting. Especially if everyone thinks it’s your fault. After dinner I ask if I can go out, and I’m surprised when both women say yes. I don’t tell them I’ll be home late, even though I know the last rehearsal ran until after midnight. I stop in the bathroom to comb my hair, but once I do, I mess it up again because too-combed hair just doesn’t look right on me. I lean in and carefully peel off the floppy edges of the scab, and when I’m done, it’s the exact shape of Iowa. I rub in a little aloe but then wash it off in case it dries green, and then I put on a clean POW/MIA shirt and leave. To my surprise, Ginny arrives at the playground early. She’s in 100 percent ninja black and greets me with a salute. “Hey,” I say, and salute back. “You’re early.” “Am I?” She threads her arm through mine and we walk elbow-locked toward the swing set. “I didn’t know we had a set time.”
