She didn’t want to accidentally make eye contact with Bryce. She avoided him in the hallway by rushing out of the room before anybody else, and she kept her face aimed straight ahead. By lunch she felt — borrowing one of Gramma Ruthie’s expressions — like a wrung-out mop. She got her tray and fell into her seat at the table with Cora and Trisha. They took one look at her and both exclaimed,“What is wrong with you?” Hearing them speak in unison with exactly the same vocal inflection should have been hilarious. Katy wished she could laugh. But she couldn’t manage even a little giggle. She sighed and told them the truth. “Bryce told me he’d been stupid to ask me to the dance.” “Oh, Katy,” they chorused. Cora reached across the table to pat Katy’s wrist. Trisha sat looking at her in sympathy. Katy appreciated their kindness, but it didn’t erase the pain Bryce had inflicted. “Yeah. Stupid. Stupid to be with me. Just stupid.” Katy repeated the words even though saying them was like rubbing salt in a wound.
