“Go home.” Her eyes were commanding, unflinching. “Now.”
I glared at Mr. Sneeves, whose face had gone from white to purple with rage, and suddenly a panicky doom washed over me. What had I done?
“No.” Mr. Sneeves’s tone was an ominous bell tolling. “Both of you go home.” He stared at Mom. “You’re finished here. Permanently.”
The tears I’d been holding back for hours now—tears of regret over Lanz, of fury toward Violet, of injustice for Mom— overflowed.
I turned, and without another word, without waiting for Mom, without even looking at her, which I knew would break my heart, I left the shop. Forever.
I smiled, listening to the sound I loved—the soft thud of ballet shoes landing on wood—as I leapt across the stage, basking in the spotlight. Then the thudding grew louder, more urgent.
I opened my eyes, then instantly wished I hadn’t. The reality of the last twenty-four hours crushed the remnants of my dream. I sat up in bed. The thudding—no, it was tapping—turned manic.
I looked out the window. Tilly was glaring at me from the second-floor landing, motioning for me to come outside.
I glanced at the clock. Seven a.m. Aue! I’d overslept, and school started in half an hour! I leapt out of bed and cranked open my window. As soon as I did, Tilly stuck her head inside.
“What do you think, it’s summer vacation? Get up already.”
I temporarily pushed aside my shock that Tilly was speaking to me after days of the cold shoulder. I pulled my hair into a mussed knot and threw on some clothes. “I can’t believe how late it is,” I said, dashing into the bathroom to brush my teeth. “Mom never lets me oversleep.”
“I don’t think she’s here,” Tilly said. “I knocked on the front door first.” When I came back into the room, she added, “I’ve been standing out here for ten minutes trying to wake your sorry butt up. The lengths I go to for you.”
I paused mid–shoe tying. “Is that a Tilly-style apology?” I desperately hoped it was, because I especially needed my best friend after the Once upon a Scoop debacle yesterday. Even now, fresh tears threatened.
“Waterworks already?” Tilly said. “I didn’t even say sorry yet.”
“I know,” I blubbered. “But … I’ve missed you. And my life is a calamity.”
Tilly climbed through the window and swiftly grabbed me in a hug. “I doubt it. If I hadn’t noticed the sea turtle caught in the fishing net on my walk here. Or rescued it. Or told off the surfer that was ignoring it on the beach. That would’ve been a calamity. But … try me. I’ll be the judge.”
Five minutes later, I’d told her everything—Lanz leaving, the fiasco with Violet, Mom getting fired.
“Whoa,” she said. “That qualifies. For sure.”
I nodded morosely. “And I can’t undo any of it.”
“Nope. It’s like one of your sundaes. Once it melts, there’s no saving it. Unless you like ice cream soup.” She shrugged when I gave her a doubtful look. “Hey, I’ve always been a fan.” I giggled, and she smiled triumphantly. “Laughter. A good sign.”
I shook my head. “What am I going to do?”
She squeezed my shoulder. “Go to school, first off. Second … email Lanz to tell him how you feel.”
“What good will it do now?”
She stuck her hands on her hips. “Look at all the trouble lying’s cost you. Telling him the truth certainly can’t make things worse.” She handed me her cell. “Get your brave on. Do it now. Andres got his email address before he left.”
I looked askance at her. “You never even wanted Lanz and me to get together.”
“Hey. I needed time to process.” She jabbed a finger at her phone, dictated Lanz’s email address to me, then disappeared into the bathroom to give me some privacy.
I logged into my email and wrote:
My hand hesitated, but I closed my eyes and hit SEND before I lost my nerve.
Tilly stuck her head around the bathroom door. “Did you tell him that you’ll travel to the ends of the earth to be with him and his gelato?”
I tossed a pillow at her, but then she checked the time and whistled. “Come on or we’ll be late.”
I grabbed a yogurt and banana from the fridge, read the note Mom had left on the table saying she had an early appointment in town, and left for school with Tilly. It was such a relief to be hanging out with her again that I felt the tiniest bit better.
“By the way, I am sorry.” Tilly kicked at an orphaned seashell, keeping her eyes fixed on it as it tumbled down the sidewalk. “I know I overreacted to your breakup with Ethan.”
“It wasn’t just my breakup,” I said quietly. “Ethan wanted it, too.”
Tilly nodded. “I had this idea in my head of how things would be. How they should be.”
“I know. But our friendship’s too important to let any boy get in the way of it. Ethan or Lanz or … whoever. We can be there for each other through the changes, right?”
“I hate change,” Tilly grumbled, kicking the shell into a nearby oleander bush.
I smiled. “You can’t hate change. Since you were ten you’ve been swearing you’re going to change the world by stopping global warming.”
She laughed. “That’s true.”
We walked for a few minutes in comfortable silence, but when we rounded the corner to school, I froze. Violet stood on the school steps, talking to her friends. The frown on her face said it all.
“Guess who she’s badmouthing?” I moaned. “I changed my mind. I can’t do school today.”
“Yes. You can.” Tilly steered me back toward the doors. “Your mom lost her job, your crush left the country, and you’re freaking out over her?” She scoffed. “Perspective, Mal.”
I climbed the steps to face Violet’s cutting glare. “Hi, Violet,” I tried. Her glare darkened. “I just want to say I’m sorry. Again. For your costume. And … I’ll
