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“You can start on the cranberry sauce,” Jane answers, “and Iz, you can finish up those turnips I started mashing.”

We get to work. It’s cramped in here with the three of us all chopping, mashing, and mixing. It only gets worse when Paulina returns from a last-minute trip to the corner store to grab some milk Jane needed, but we turn on some music and start joking and grooving our way through all the bumping into each other.

It doesn’t take long for the room to get warm enough that my hair is sticking to my forehead. I lift it up to fan the back of my neck and find myself grinning when the song coming out of Paulina’s phone switches to an acoustic guitar intro I recognize.

“This is Becca’s favourite song,” I blurt before I think better of it.

I expect a few curious looks about why I know Becca’s favourite song, or maybe just some nods like it’s understandable information to have. I’m even braced for suspicion and questions.

What I don’t expect is for everyone in the kitchen to freeze and exchange nervous glances while the tension creeps in like an ominous shadow even Ben Howard’s optimistic lyrics can’t block out.

“What?” I ask when it becomes clear no one else is going to speak.

“Uh, nothing,” Paulina answers. “It’s, uh, a good song.”

“Seriously, what’s up?”

I know my friends. This isn’t how they would react if they only thought I had a crush on Becca, or even if they thought we may be involved.

They’re giving me serious we-have-bad-news-we-don’t-want-to-talk-about vibes.

“Wait, is something wrong with Becca?” I demand. “Is she okay?”

It doesn’t make any sense for them to know something about her being hurt without me knowing too, but I can’t think of anything else that would make them react this way. They all look like somebody died.

“Oh, Hope, of course not.” Jane leans against the single foot of free counter space left. “Becca is fine. I mean, as far as I know.”

“Then why are you all acting so weird?”

“I don’t know if we could call her fine,” Iz mutters.

Jane shoots them a withering glare. “Iz, come on!”

I give up on mashing cranberries and stand with my hands on my hips. I’m sweating bullets now, and it’s not just from the heat of the room.

“You guys, spit it out. What the hell is going on? You know I hate when people don’t tell me things.”

They do their exchanging of glances thing again, and then Jane sighs.

“I’m sorry, Hope. We just...we only found out yesterday, and we didn’t want to ruin Friendsgiving for you. We’ve all been working so hard this year, and we figured it was better to just have a nice holiday and then deal with stuff. I mean, we don’t even know what’s actually true.”

My heart is pounding so loud I can barely hear her, and my gut is twisting itself in knots so tight I have to clutch my stomach.

I hate this. I hate people keeping things from me ‘for my own good.’ They know I hate this.

“I need somebody to tell me what the hell is happening right now,” I get out through my clenched jaw.

Jane looks down at the floor. “Of course. It was wrong not to tell you right away.”

I can feel a vein pulsing somewhere in my forehead. “Tell me what?”

Paulina sets down the salad tongs she’s been holding in mid-air for the past minute and drums her nails against the countertop, taking over for Jane.

“So...we all kind of thought there was something up with you and Becca, and I just want you to know we don’t care if there is. I mean, I get the team’s no dating policy, but it’s a little extreme, and it’s not like you can help who you have feelings for, so if you do have feelings for her...we’re there for you, you know? We figured you’d tell us when you were ready. I think the whole team feels the same.”

Great. The whole team. It was bad enough when I thought a couple of the older girls might be onto us, but all of my closest friends talking about this behind my back makes me feel so small. I don’t know how I was so oblivious.

So stupid.