“His gaze was a lot steadier than her heartbeat. “She’s the reason for those whispered phone calls I used to overhear, isn’t she?” “Don’t be silly. I was talking to my lover.” “She told me she lives at a place called Brookdale. After I hung up, I did a little research on the Web. Your talent for obfuscation continues to amaze me.” “Hey, I haven’t obfuscated in weeks. Makes you go blind.”

“I miss someone who gets me. I called a woman on my research team a bitch – you know in a friendly way – and she told me to go to hell. And I think she really meant it.”“Rhian, we’ve talked about this. Normal people don’t like to be called names. For some reason, they tend to take is personally. And you are a tad bitchy, by the way.“Normal people are so sensitive.”

“She was looking at the cab, looking right through me, and I knew that she was curious because she’d seen A.J. talking to me. Which, to her, looked an awful lot like A.J. was talking to himself. “Say, I gotta run, mom, I’ll call you later,” I instructed the kid, and then pretend to hang up your phone.”

“I stopped doubting her predication after she told me I'd be allergic to guava juice, which was something I'd never tried. I drank a liter of it in name of scientific research. Dad called me Big Face for two week.”

“Can I borrow your phone?" she asked.I frowned, unsure what she would do. "Sure." I pulled my phone from my pocket, handing it to her.She fingered the buttons for a moment, and then dialed, closing her eyes as she waited."I'm sorry for calling you so early," she stammered, "but this couldn't wait. I . . . can't go to dinner with you on Wednesday."She had called Parker. My hands trembled with apprehension, wondering if she was going to ask him to pick her up - to save her - or something else.She continue, "I can't see you at all, actually. I'm . . . pretty sure I'm in love with Travis."My whole world stopped. I tried to replay her words over. Had I heard them correctly? Did she really just say what I thought she had, or was it just wishful thinking? Abby handed the phone back to me, and then reluctantly peered up into my eyes."He hung up," she said with a frown."You love me?""It's the tattoos," she said, flippant and shrugging, as if she hadn't just said the one thing I'd ever wanted to hear.Pigeon loved me.”

“So why haven’t you called?” I ask her now.She looks uncomfortable. “I told you,” she says, twirling the end of her braid around her finger. “School stuff.”“Bullshit.” She looks at me and opens her mouth, probably to lie again. But then she changes her mind. “I didn’t know what to say.” Her voice catches, so I know she’s telling the truth. “And besides, you didn’t call me, either.” “Because you didn’t call me!” Doesn’t she know that the person who got kicked out of school (me) doesn’t have to call the one who didn’t(her)? She should have called to check up on me, to see how I was doing. She should have come over with lemonades and ice cream, keeping me company, helping me nurse my broken heart. That’s what best friends do. It’s so common it’s cliché.”