I am not surprised by the texts Blair sends me that day. They go from, “Where are you, girl?” to “I hope you two aren’t up to something illegal.”
Once school hours come to an end, I call her.
Bu then, Ryker and I have just left the diner where we had lunch.
“Hey girl,” I greet her in a chipper tone.
“Who is this and what have you done to my depressed friend?” She asks in mock disbelief.
“I’ve left that depressed side of me behind for now,” I tell her softly. “I’m good.”
“Are you, really?”
I sigh. “No, but I will be.”
It’s her turn to sigh at that. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“A sleepover would be nice,” I suggest.
“Sure,” she agrees readily. “Today?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll tell grandma to make us lasagna then,” she offers softly.
“You’re spoiling me,” I giggle.
“O
