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blond hair unlocks the door and lets us in. Zelia leans close to the mirror and re-does her eyeliner while I pee. When I come out of the stall she takes my arm.
    â€œOkay,” she says. “Let’s go.”
    Back on the sidewalk, we sit side by side and watch people walk past. They all look busy or stressed.
    â€œThey all look boring, too,” Zelia says.“Let’s never be boring.”
    I lean against her shoulder and feel the pull of her person­ality like a powerful magnet. “Okay,” I agree. “We will never, never, never be boring. You must tell me immediately if you think I’m in danger of becoming boring.”
    Zelia grins. “Deal. And you must tell me.”
    An old man limps past, leaning heavily on a cane. He looks down at us sitting on the sidewalk and smiles.
    Zelia makes a face. “Nathan,” she says under her breath.
    There is an edge of bitterness in her voice, and I look at her quizzically.
    She shrugs off my concern. “Let’s never get old,” she says. “Old is even worse than boring.”
    â€œMmm. Harder to avoid though,” I point out.
    â€œNot really,” Zelia says. “I’m going to kill myself long before I get all decrepit and boring and ugly.”
    I lift my head off her shoulder and look at her. “You are not,” I say. “You’re not going to kill yourself.”
    Zelia shrugs. “Whatever.”
    â€œSeriously. You wouldn’t. How would you do it?”
    â€œIf I decided to do it, I’d just do it. How isn’t the point.”
    I’m not so sure. I’ve never considered suicide, even when my life was pretty much hell. Still, I’ve wondered about it. Who hasn’t?
    â€œI don’t know,” I say. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
    She laughs. “How does that rhyme go? Guns aren’t legal; nooses give; gas smells terrible; you might as well live.”
    I stare at her, unsure if I should laugh.
    Zelia just shrugs again. “I think there’s supposed to be some line in there about razors too,” she says.

Six
    I INVITE ZELIA back to my place for dinner. She doesn’t bother to call her mom.
    â€œLee won’t notice,” she says bitterly as we walk home together. “Michael the Unethical Shrink is moving in this week.”
    â€œMoving in! That’s kind of fast, isn’t it?” I can’t imagine someone moving in with Mom and me.
    â€œThat’s Lee,” Zelia says. “Fast. Although maybe this is a good thing. They never last long once they move in.” She kicks at a rock on the sidewalk. “She’ll probably get tired of him soon. She’ll start complaining about little things that irritate her. Then he’ll be gone.”
    I don’t really know how to respond to this, so we walk on in silence for a few minutes. Mom hasn’t dated anyone for ages. She always had lots of friends back in Ontario, and she did go out with a couple of guys when I was younger. She never seems lonely or anything. She works a lot and goes to yoga classes and book groups and stuff like that. I think she just prefers being single.
    The leaves are starting to turn yellow and fall from the trees. They crunch under my feet as I scuff my heels along the sidewalk. I’m curious about what Lee’s other boyfriends were like, but I don’t want to be nosy.
    GRAN IS SITTING in the kitchen, a ball of wool beside her and a craft book open on her lap. So far, craft books are the only thing I have ever seen her read. She comes over all the time. It’s been six months since Granddad died, but Gran’s still not used to living on her own yet, I guess. Mom says she cries a lot, but whenever I see her, she’s as hard and as sharp as the knitting needles clicking away in her hands.
    She glares up at me when I walk in arm in arm with Zelia. “A little late, aren’t you?”
    â€œI called,”