Better Late Than Never

His smile faded. She could see his hand go to the gearshift. Then, suddenly, he sped away.

Dimly, Jenna heard Madame suggesting to Tracey that she take her home. Emily was saying she'd wait with Jenna while Tracey collected their things. She was aware of a hug, a pat on the shoulder, a hand briefly clutching hers. She wasn't sure who was hugging, who was patting . . . but they were friends, she thought. Maybe.

The only thing she was really sure of was the fake tattoo on her arm. Dad. It was already starting to fade. She'd just have to wear long sleeves until it was gone completely.