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whispers, then looks around like someone else might hear her. “I hate her.”
    “What happened?” I sit up and rub my eyes.
    Natalie stands. I hand her the dog and she sets him down in the hall. She shuts the door before pulling our friend onto my bed.
    Vianna stuffs all of her feelings inside. She’s become her own Build-a-Bear. A person can only put so much stuffing into one of those bear shells before it explodes. Even Vianna can’t hold it in forever.
    “I called my dad on his cell phone and his wife answered. I was really nice to her. I even tried to talk to her,” Vianna says.
    “That was your first mistake. No talking to the bitches,” Natalie interrupts.
    Vianna stands and paces the room. “I know, but I’m tired of my dad being mad at me. Anyway, she huffed when I asked to talk to my dad, a long and drawn-out huff. I can’t call the house because it upsets her, so I call his cell. And now that makes her mad. And then when my father got on the phone he told me he couldn’t talk. All I wanted to do was talk to him. I stopped going over there, what more does she want?”
    She plops back down and I pull my knees to my chest and now it’s Natalie’s turn to stand and pace. An outsider looking in would think my room was a boat on the water the way these two are moving.
    “What, did her son get in trouble again?” I lean forward and rub my friend’s arm. Wendy’s pot-smoking son, who almost graduated from high school four years ago, is the devil’s spawn. The school allowed him to walk at the ceremony with the class, but he needed to take some classes over the summer to actually earn his diploma, which he didn’t. He likes to party. He’s one of those boys in high school who has all the girls but at the twenty-year reunion he’ll still live in his hometown in his parents’ basement working at the local lube center, changing oil. When he messes up, Vianna always receives the backlash. It’s because she’s good and he’s a screw-off.
    “That piece of you-know-what lost his job last week.” Vianna uses her fist to pound the mattress, which is good. I want her to let it out.
    “Say it, Vianna. Just say it. The little prick lost his job at the car wash.” Natalie grabs my vanilla body spray and applies some on her wrist. She’s wearing a pair of my shorts that she borrowed a month ago, a cute sapphire tank, and blue-and-black plaid button-up top with pale blue flip-flops to match.
    “No, that was two jobs ago. Last week he lost his job at the grocery store because he got caught smoking marijuana behind the building.” Vianna says. “Just because it’s legal doesn’t mean he can smoke it at work.”
    “And the job before that? How did the little prick lose that one?” Natalie grabs the lavender aromatherapy spray that sits on my dresser collecting dust. My mom keeps bringing samples home from work. She squirts some onto Vianna’s wrist.
    “Busboy at the Mexican restaurant. He didn’t show for a shift because he didn’t feel good. All he had to do was call in.” Vianna stands and wipes her arm on Natalie’s shirt. “That stuff stinks.”
    “And you’re the bad one. I don’t get it,” I say.
    Natalie pulls the gardenia spray from my dresser and then grabs my hand.
    I yank my hand back. “Don’t you dare! That crap reminds me of my father’s wedding. And you’re driving me crazy. Quit touching everything.”
    Natalie releases the bottle into the trash, then drops backwards on the bed. My room now smells like one of the perfume stores in the mall.
    “I’ve worked at The Breakfast Stop for three years.” Vianna stands and walks to the corner, then to my door, then back to the corner. “But Wendy is always telling my dad I’m spoiled and lazy.” She’s still in her pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. She doesn’t have an ounce of makeup on, and even though she’s been crying, she’s still gorgeous. The only thing that is perfect is the ringlets in her hair. Vianna never goes