I also had to hide my bathing suit in my bottom drawer, turn on the water in the shower so it looks like I took a shower, because my hair is so wet and there’s no way it will dry before Matoo gets home. Then just as I hear the front door lock turn I realize my hair will smell like chlorine anyway, and, oh, why didn’t I just get in the shower and really wash my hair? Then I wouldn’t be lying, at least, about one thing. But it’s too late. “Ruby? I’m back.” Matoo walks into the living room and sits right down at the end of the couch. Maybe she doesn’t smell anything. “How was mom?” I ask. Matoo shrugs. “Did she ask about me?” “Of course she asked about you. I didn’t want to tell her you weren’t feeling well. You know how upset she gets when she thinks you’re sick.” Oh right, I didn’t think about that.
