“A good memory.” She said it quietly, the way you repeat something when the words don’t quite fit. “Mom, the only memory I’d make is being the girl standing in the corner trying not to be noticed.”
“Then stand in the middle of the room for once,” her mother said softly. “Just once.”
Hannah stared at her plate and didn’t answer.
What Megan Said at the Bus Stop, and What Hannah Found When She Opened Her Locker
The next morning, Megan was waiting at the bus stop with her backpack on one shoulder and her usual direct assessment of Hannah’s face.
“You didn’t sleep,” she said. Not a question.
“My mom’s pushing the prom thing.”
“Of course she is. Moms always do.”
Hannah almost smiled.
Megan was the only person in that school who had kept choosing Hannah’s company even when there was a social cost to it. She was the kind of friend you earned rather than stumbled into, and Hannah knew it.
