“Cool?” I replied.
“Oh my God,” she said, laughing. “Just wear the fucking mask, okay? Seriously. The little infographic on the news said our air is like, red status.”
“Well, if the air is red,” I joked, nodding.
“Use the freaking mask,” she ordered, pointing at it.
“How do I look?” I asked, putting the mask over my mouth and nose.
“Like a goober,” she replied, with a laugh. “But it should work. Mark knows his shit and he said these ones are the best if you don’t have a gas mask.”
“Well, I’m glad he sent these because I’m not wearing a goddamn gas mask to the grocery store,” I said, shaking the mask by the little elastic straps.
“I have one for Rebel, too,” she said. “I wonder if she’d be able to use it?”
Our other best friend, my cousin Rebel, had some sensory issues. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask,” I said with a shrug. “She’d probably like to match with us.”
Charlie nodded and imitated the Darth Vader breathing sounds behind her hand. Leaning back into the closet, she started talking. “You know you’re going to have visitors when they find out you’re still here.”
“Then lie if they ask,” I replied. I knew she was right. I also knew what her reply to my order would be before she said it.
“Not happening,” she said, as I mouthed the words silently along with her.
I watched in confusion as she pulled out a pair of riding goggles with a huff of satisfaction. I had no clue what she planned on doing with those when we weren’t even supposed to be outside.
“I’m not playing into this whole thing you’re doing with Draco,” she said flatly, taking my attention away from the goggles in her hand. “You two can deal with it on your own.”
“I’m not sure how that’s true, since none of you can seem to keep your noses out of it,” I shot back, meeting her eyes.
We’d had the conversation a hundred times before, and like a hundred times before, I knew there would be no resolution, no matter how long we went in circles.
“When you’re making everything awkward as hell in a group that you’ve grown up with,” she snapped, “it’s kind of hard to ignore.”
“We’re not making anything awkward,” I said, trying hard to keep my voice level. “You guys constantly pushing us together does that!”
“If you think anyone but Draco is pushing, you’re fucking blind,” she replied. “We’re just all trying to stay out of the blast zone.”
“So, stay out of it,” I said, throwing up one arm in exasperation. “I don’t need your commentary about whether I’ll have visitors or not, and I don’t need you telling them where I am, even if they ask. I have a dad, I don’t need another.”
She stared at me. “Don’t think dad is the role Draco wants to play.”
“I don’t know why it’s ‘they’ anyway,” I continued, ignoring her comment. “Curt didn’t give a flying fuck where I was or what I was doing when Draco was gone, but now, all of a sudden, he cares? What the hell is that about?”
“You tell me,” she said insinuatingly.
My mouth dropped open. “Fuck you,” I shot back. “Don’t act like you think there’s something going on with me and Curtis when you know there’s not.”
Charlie sighed. “You’re right. That was a shitty thing to say.”
The room was silent for a long moment.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come stay with us?” she asked again, the change of subject swift and easy. We’d been having the Draco argument for a long time—it didn’t change our friendship and we didn’t even get mad about it anymore. “You know Farrah always has the good snacks.”
“No, thank you, and stop calling your mother Farrah,” I said, shaking my head. “Bring me home some Cheetos, though.”
“No way,” she said, tossing her snow boots onto the middle of the floor. “You snooze, you loose, bro. And I’ll call her Farrah if I want. I think she actually likes it.”
I snorted. Charlie’s mom definitely did not want her daughter to call her by her first name. I’d lost count of how many times Farrah had corrected her over the years.
“I’m going to run to the store and get some supplies so I don’t have to leave later,” I said, already dreading the walk to my car. “Will you be here when I get back?”
“No, I’m almost done packing,” Charlie said as she got to her feet. “But text me when you get home, okay? People are going to be acting nuts.”
“Yes, Mom,” I joked as I stepped into the hallway. I fought and lost the urge to poke my head back into her room, knowing I was a complete hypocrite. “Text me when you get to your parents’.”
“Yes, Mom,” she replied.
I deserved that one.
* * *