Her blonde hair is cut short and kind of jagged, and she’s wearing a graphic tee with sleeves just grazing the elbows, a short black skirt, and black leggings.

I want to call Shan. It was the first thing I thought of when I woke up this morning and it’s been niggling at me all day.

School is such a noisy haze, I don’t even panic before Ma’s class. I just need to speak to Shan. I feel like our friendship has fizzled out, and I don’t like that. If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a quitter.

I hold on until I can’t hold anymore. It’s probably annoying to those around me, but I’m sure it’ll come to good use one day.

The bell rings at last, I wave and smile and chat, and all the while I’m thinking how I just need quiet and my phone and to connect with Shan.

I’ve never been more grateful for my own room before. I close the door with a satisfying click, kick off my shoes, untuck my shirt, and perch on the bed. My reflection watches me from the dresser mirror; I stick out my tongue at her. She looks tired and nervous. But her hair looks great.

The family cell is on my nightstand where I left it after using it as an alarm clock this morning.

I pick it up, my palms sweaty, heart racing.

Why am I so nervous? She’s a girl. Just a girl. My age. My stage. Exactly my stage. And… she doesn’t go to school.

Dial, I tell my fingers. Just dial. They refuse.

Dial! I’m dialing.

“Hello?”

“Shan?”

This time her voice sounds amused. “Hey, Naomi. So your type to call me again. How are you?”

So my type… eh?

“Yeah, I’m weird like that,” I say lightly. “I’m good, baruch Hashem, how are you?”

She laughs. “I’m good, Naomi. I’m actually in Toms River… wanna meet up?”

She was in… why is it taking my brain ten minutes to compute everything.

“Oh, wow. Yeah, sure! Let’s do it. Where are you exactly?”

I hear her speaking to someone in the background. “Guys, where are we?”