Adrianna said in a singsong voice as she pushed the door to my room open and entered. She had a huge smile stretched across her face as she dropped her backpack on the ground near my desk chair and walked over to sit on the edge of my bed. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and her pink stripe was so faded now that it looked bleached blonde. At the sight of my face, Adrianna paused, staring me down. “What’s wrong?” She asked, knowing instantly something wasn’t right. She could read me like a book. I was leaned back against my headboard, hugging my knees to my chest, and trying to think of anything other than the pictures on my phone. Adrianna scooted closer, placing her hand on my knee. “Hey, Claire, talk to me. What’s wrong?” I raised my eyes to meet her gaze. She looked concerned. Her plucked eyebrows where furrowed and the corners of her mouth were turned downward. Last night, after I got back to my house, I called to tell her that I was home safe and then I hung up, got dressed for bed, and went to sleep in my mom’s room with her.
