Allison asked. Nikki shook her head, loose curls swinging. “You know I’m not big on church, what with my dad and all. Besides, you should spend time with your parents without me tagging along.” She lay on the twin bed, stretching her long arms and legs under a quilt. She glanced at the clock. Services would start soon. Allison wore a dark brown dress, brown boots, and her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail—just right for services at St. Benedict Catholic Church. “You look nice,” she said. “Thanks.” Allison hesitated. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I wish you wouldn’t stay here alone.” Nikki smiled. She’d known Allison since their first day at Blue Hill, one of the only friends who seemed to understand her issues with religion and her famous father. She didn’t treat Nikki like a freak or a celebrity. Best of all, she didn’t want anything from her. A thoughtful and quiet girl, she rarely voiced her opinion, but when she did, Nikki listened.
