“The face you make when you think something is important.”
I smiled.
“Perhaps I’m just happy you’re making a friend.”
She tried to hide her smile.
“Maybe.”
A week later, Emily asked whether Hannah could come over on Saturday.
I said yes so quickly that she narrowed her eyes.
“You’re not going to interrogate her, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“Or ask her about her grades?”
“I was not planning to.”
“Or tell her embarrassing stories about me when I was little?”
I paused.
Emily pointed at me.
“That pause means you’re thinking about it!”
I raised both hands.
“Fine. I’ll behave.”
She laughed and ran upstairs to message her friend.
I watched her go, feeling a cautious kind of hope.
It wasn’t that everything was suddenly perfect.
It was that Emily was beginning to imagine a future beyond the girls who had hurt her.
