Claire called me almost every day to try and get me to see her side, as if she actually had a side. To be honest, I was almost as mad at her as I was at Mom. “It’s not about sides, Evie,” Bruce huffed late one evening as we trekked to the corner store for some milk. Snow swirled up around our faces. It was already the third storm in as many weeks, and February was barely half over. “Yes it is. It is about sides. Claire’s always been the one to defend me to Mom. She’s always seen things my way. Of everyone in the whole world, she was the only one who ever told it to me straight.” “What about me? You don’t think I’m honest with you?” Bruce shook his head and stopped walking. “Well here’s some honesty for you. You don’t always want to hear it straight, Evie. You hear what you want to hear, or else you choose not to listen.” “Exactly. Which is why I thought I could count on her. And if you’re going to be a jerk about it, then let’s just drop it.” “Do you hear what you’re saying?
