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and pears and plums,” the doctor added briskly. “Surely you’ll find something you like that’s good for you and that baby. And see my secretary about scheduling another appointment. If you don’t, I’ll hunt you down and show up in your third-bell class!”
    â€œOh, please do. I hate that class. Any excuse to get out is welcome,” November replied, glad for a chance to laugh.
    â€œAnd November?”
    â€œYes, ma’am?”
    â€œTalk to your mother.”
    â€œI will.” November sighed and walked out of the doctor’s office into the overcast Saturday afternoon.

CHAPTER 9
SATURDAY, APRIL 24
    WHEN NOVEMBER GOT HOME, HER MOTHER was sitting at the kitchen table, working a crossword puzzle. “Hi, honey. Glad you’re home early. How was the book fair?”
    â€œIt was okay.” November flopped down in the kitchen chair across from her mother.
    â€œWhat’s a six-letter word that means ‘worn down’? I think it starts with an e .”
    â€œEroded,” November answered.
    â€œThanks,” said her mother as she scribbled the answer. “Okay, here’s another one. Who was Cleopatra’s lover? Oh, it’s a long one.”
    â€œMarc Antony. It could also be Julius Caesar. Cleo got around.” November chuckled mirthlessly.
    â€œHey, you’re good. Which reminds me, your registration for the Black College Tour came in the mail today,” her mother said as she frowned over another clue. “You’re all set to leave when school gets out in June. Then, as soon as you get back, you’re off to Cornell! I think checking outthe Black colleges is a good idea, in spite of the Cornell program, just to make sure you end up at the college that’s right for you.”
    November didn’t answer. She shifted nervously in her seat. “Did you already pay for it?”
    â€œOf course. Dana’s mother has signed her up for the same tour, so the two of you can share a room at the various stops. We’ve got lots of time to work out the details.”
    â€œMaybe I shouldn’t go, Mom,” November said softly.
    â€œNot go? Why not? The tour ought to be fun, even if you’re just window shopping!”
    November couldn’t believe how hard this was. Her mother, blissfully unaware, chattered on about colleges and crossword clues without even noticing November’s mood. “Maybe I should look into other options, Mom,” she said, her voice flat.
    Mrs. Nelson looked up. “What’s wrong, November? Did something happen at the book fair?”
    â€œNo.” November offered no explanation. She just couldn’t get the words out. She knew that as soon as she said them out loud, nothing would ever be the same.
    Her mother frowned. “Come to think of it, you’ve had the blues for the past few weeks. What’s up, baby girl? You know you can tell me anything.”
    Mothers say that kind of stuff , November thought, but they don’t really want to know everything. “Everything is a mess, Mom,” November began, her voice a whisper.
    â€œIs it Josh?” her mother asked gently. “You know, when your daddy died, I felt cold all the time, like I’d never get warm or feel right again. So I really do know how you musthurt about losing Josh.” She reached over and touched her daughter’s cheek.
    â€œYou don’t get it, Mom. It’s worse than you think,” November mumbled, pulling away.
    â€œWhat is it, baby?” November’s mother asked again, even more gently.
    November tried not to cry, but she couldn’t help it. “What’s an eight-letter word that means I’ve screwed up my life forever?”
    Mrs. Nelson looked at her daughter sharply. “What are you talking about, November?”
    â€œI didn’t go to the book fair today. I went to a doctor.” She paused and studied the pattern on the kitchen floor.