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“Number five: If I ask for space, I get it. No arguing. No following. No back-and-forth bullshit.”

The pen stills.

She stares at the list and blinks slowly then sets the notebook down, slides it across the counter, and walks out of the room.

Skinner waits till her footsteps fade before exhaling. “Well”—he picks up the notebook, squinting at the handwriting—“she’s thorough.”

I watch her take the stairs, ones I went up last night.

“The spare bedroom has a full-sized bed. Either you two get cozy, or one takes the couch. The couch is not big enough; there’s an air mattress in the closet.”

She’s sputtering and slamming doors then two pillows come flying down over the railing. Skinner and I both catch one before it hits her wood stove.

I call up to her, “Hey, Lo?”

“What?”

“Don’t throw anything else down. The pillows almost hit the stove. We’ll come grab?—”

“I’m not going up there,” Skinner whispers and shudders. “She’s scary.”

“She’s five-foot-six and even you could take her down.”

“I’m five-seven, and I dare you to try,” comes from above us.

We look up as she drops a couple of pairs of sweats and some blankets down.

“Sweats are Jacskon or Harts. Catch.”

“No way,” Skinner says as he shakes the quilt out and calls up, “Hey, Lo, my nana made me a T-shirt quilt for graduation from high school, too.”

She walks out of her room, having changed into a Blue Valley High hoodie and navy-blue sweats, twisting her hair up in a top knot. “I didn’t mean to throw that down,” she says, disappearing into what I assume is the other room then walking out with another blanket. “I won’t share that one.”

“Field hockey, softball, basketball, and …” He turns it around, and I see her number on every tee. “You played tennis?”

“Not well, but I needed four varsity sports,” she says, coming down the stairs with another blanket in hand.

She eyes me, and I’m not even trying to hide my amusement.

“What?” she asks.

“Your number was 1?” I ask.

“Of course it was.”

Chapter8

WTF?

Lo

Am I aware I’m spiraling? Of course I am! I am the most self-aware person I know. But what’s a girl to do?

The right thing, Lo, pops into my head.

“Mom,” I grumble.

“What?” Skinner chuckles.