Puddin'(98)

“We’re here for Millie,” says Hannah.

“Millie who?”

“That’s it,” Willowdean says. “Callie Reyes, I swear to Dolly Parton that if you don’t open this door, I’ll sit my ass here until your mama gets home, and if your mama is anything like mine, I’m sure she’d love to meddle all up in your personal business.”

I huff through my nose and unlock my door one lock at a time before finally opening it a few inches. “Well,” I say, not making any motions to welcome them inside. “Let’s get this over with.”

I open the door and find the four of them standing there with stern looks and crossed arms.

Hannah rolls her eyes. “This is such a waste of time,” she says under her breath.

“I agree,” I mutter as they all file in.

In the kitchen, we all sit down at the table, but there aren’t enough chairs. “I’d prefer to stand,” says Amanda.

I shrug and plop down into the chair I’d held out for her. “Is this some kind of intervention?”

Willowdean looks at Ellen with big wide eyes, telling her to go first, but Ellen nudges her forward with her chin just like my mom does when she’s trying to communicate with me in a room full of people.

“Never quite took you for the domestic type,” Willowdean finally says.

“Are you here to offer cooking tips or for some other God-ordained reason?” I spit back.

Hannah drums her nails, which have been colored in with black permanent marker. “No, but if you could go ahead and complete my Life Skills final and make me a casserole while you’re at it, I wouldn’t be mad.”

Amanda sniffs the air. “It does smell pretty good in here.”

Willowdean crosses her arms and looks to Ellen once more. “We don’t think you’re awful. And that turned out to be a really big surprise.”

Ellen rolls her eyes. “What my girl is trying to say is that we sort of got to know you over the last few months, thanks to Millie. And, well . . . Amanda filled us in on everything.”

Amanda leans against the counter, crossing her legs at the ankles. She digs into the fruit basket and takes an apple. “Like, right down to your necklace on the security footage at the gym.” She points at me, her eyes squinted as she bites into the apple, and with her mouth full, she adds, “By the way, I totally knew it was you who wallpapered the main hallway with that Shamrock shit list or whatever.”

“Okay,” says Hannah, “but that was, like, super obvious.”

“What do you want?” I ask, my tone exasperated. “I got shit to do.”

Ellen fidgets in her seat, crossing her legs back and forth. “What we’re getting at is that somehow we started to consider you a friend.”

“A friendly acquaintance,” says Willowdean.

Ellen swats at her thigh before continuing. “And friends tell friends when they’re being ridiculous.”

My eyes ping-pong back and forth between the two of them. “Friends?” I ask. “Ha! Are y’all delusional?” I know I’m playing it tough, but I can feel myself softening just a little bit. Maybe it’s the weeks I’ve spent without Millie, but this sudden, very tiny dash of . . . not kindness . . . but not awfulness . . . well, it’s tugging at my soft bits.

“I wouldn’t push your luck,” Willowdean tells me. She pauses before adding, “At first, we—”

Ellen nudges her.

“I,” Willowdean continues. “At first I didn’t get what Millie saw in you.”

“Nope,” says Hannah. “That’s definitely a we statement. Cosigned.”

A deeply satisfied grin spreads across Willowdean’s face. “You’re kind of selfish and rude and, like, really not that funny. But then you started coming around more and . . . well, you ended up being sort of funny.”

Amanda holds her apple up like a gavel. “For the record, I think you’re pretty damn funny.”

“And smart,” adds Ellen. “And loyal,” she says.

“Well, there’s something you don’t have much experience with,” I say.

Ellen swallows hard. “You’re right. After Willowdean and I mended our fence, I was certainly not loyal.”

“You ditched me,” I tell her, my voice flat, because I can’t risk letting her know how awful that really made me feel.

She nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. But gosh, Callie, you also gotta know that you haven’t always been the easiest person to be friends with. Hell, if anyone was gonna crack you, it would be Millie. So I’m sorry that I just ghosted on you after the pageant, but I’m also glad that I got a chance to get to know this new and improved version of you, too.”

“I get why you’re mad,” Willowdean says. “About Millie not telling you she was the one who recognized you on the security footage. You could say that I have a little bit of a temper, too. But would it have changed anything?”

“I might not have made that list,” I tell them. “With all the secrets. Or wasted so much time being pissed off at the Shamrocks—girls who were my friends.”

“Girls who let you carry that blame all alone,” says Ellen in a soft voice. “Listen, I don’t think there’s any use in pointing your anger in one direction or the other. The whole situation sucked, but it happened.”