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Jamie answers on the last ring, just before his funny and clever voice mail message would have played. His voice is blurry with sleep. It’s eight o’clock in the morning, the first Saturday since we started school again. It’s the year we graduate now, the year we’re supposed to be grown up.

“Jamie?”

“What? I was sleeping.”

“Jamie, my parents are getting a divorce.” There is a silence. I imagine him sitting up, rubbing his face with one hand.

“God, pretty girl, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not even sure why I’m upset,” I say. I’m in my room curled in my desk chair. It’s raining outside, dark and cold. I have a quilt over my shoulders and my cheek resting on my knee. “Hardly anything is going to change. Apparently Dad moved into an apartment downtown a week ago and I didn’t even notice.”

“When did you find out?”

“They told me last night, over dinner. And they said all that bullshit about how it wasn’t my fault and they both still loved me etc., etc., like I was six or something.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I did. You didn’t answer.”

“Oh shit. I remember. I was at the movie with Sasha—”

“I know. It’s fine.”

“I meant to call you back.”

“It’s fine,” I say. My words sound harsh in my ears but Jamie does not say anything about it. I swallow. “Do you think you could come over?”

“Yeah,” Jamie says. “Just let me shower first—hey, want me to take you out to breakfast?”

“I don’t think I can eat.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I say. I pull the quilt tighter around me. “Just come over and hold me.”

“Will do, pretty girl. I’ll see you in a minute.”

“Wait! Jamie?”

“What?”

“Will you ever leave me?”

“Nope.”

“Promise?”

“Yup.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye. Love you.”

“I love you too, Jamie.”

I lay my phone on the desk and watch the rain outside my window.