“You’re going to be okay, you know,” Raquel said in a casual voice that wasn’t quite convincing. “I know it sucks, but—” She shrugged.
Sadie picked up her coffee, the mug warm in her hand, but as she brought it to her lips, her temperamental magic turned the ceramic cold and the bitter taste of ice-cold coffee hit her tongue. The back of her neck prickled, and she scrunched her shoulders, forcing herself not to turn around again. The urge to throw a dash of salt over her shoulder, or at the very least squeeze the buckbean in her pocket, was almost overwhelming. Goose bumps rose on her arms. “Something wicked this way comes.” She tried to brush it under the rug like she always did, but the rug wasn’t budging. Some things refused to be swept.
“Camilla is trying to convince Mom and Dad to let her get a tattoo,” Raquel said out of nowhere, changing the subject and breaking into Sadie’s thoughts.
“What!” Sadie laughed. “In what world?” Raquel’s parents were stricter than strict. Raquel had once been grounded because she played an April Fool’s joke with a fake nose ring. When Sadie had tried the same trick, Gigi had told her how darling it looked.
“I know, right? ‘What kind of example do you think you’re setting for Sofía!’” She imitated her mother’s voice and accent. “Mind you Camilla is nineteen and Sofía is sixteen, but God forbid they go against Mamá y Papá Rodriguez. Been there. Failed that. Remember when I tried to skive off my therapy session when we were in middle school? I thought Papá was going to have an aneurysm.” She laughed. “He sat in the waiting room every time after that. I think he’d still sit in the waiting room if I let him.”
“Only because you’re his princess,” Sadie said with a smile. “How are your meds, by the way?” She usually asked every few months, but Raquel had been so stable she’d forgotten to check in and felt a little guilty for it.
“Dr. Attenburg upped the dosage a few months ago, and it’s—” She shrugged. “It’s good. It numbs me a little too much sometimes, but it’s better than the alternative.”
The alternative, Sadie knew, could be disastrous. She’d sat with Raquel while she’d spiraled into a catatonic state, been with her when her manic episodes threatened her safety, and cried with her as her as she begged not to be broken. Raquel’s bipolar disorder was a roller coaster, but it was one that made her best friend the strongest and most courageous person she knew, even if she herself didn’t see it.
“And how’s yoga?”
“Working on the eight-angle pose. It’s a sight to behold,” Raquel said. “But the more I take care of my body, the better I feel.”
Just then, Annabelle Bennet walked by and threw a condescending smile in their direction. She’d never quite forgiven Sadie for outing her bra stuffing, and made it her life mission to make Sadie feel as small as possible. Still, Sadie smiled back and offered a wave as Raquel scowled.
“I can never decide if I should try to be nicer like you, or if I should try and make you more of a stone-cold bitch like me,” Raquel said as Annabelle took a seat at a table across the diner.
“I’m not nice,” Sadie countered.
“You would literally let someone shit on your doorstep and then apologize for not cleaning it up fast enough.”
“That—that’s disgusting, first of all. And second, it may seem like I’m nice, but really, it’s scathing sarcastic subtext. It’s a subtle art of insulting but doing it in such a way that the person doesn’t know if you’re joking or not. I mean, Annabelle tries, bless her, but the hatred shows in her eyes too much, you know?”
“Whatever you say, cari?o. But everyone knows you’re a big ol’ softie.”
Sadie stirred her coffee thoughtfully, opened her mouth, couldn’t think of anything to say that seemed true, and closed it again.
“Stop editing whatever you’re thinking about saying, and just spit it out.”
“Fine,” Sadie huffed, “even though that’s a rhetorical question because you’re my best friend, and you obviously know how I feel. My stomach is in knots at the thought of him being in the same town, let alone actually seeing him. And now I know what all those bad omens brought. But a nightmare you know is better than one you don’t because then you know how to handle it. And whatever Jake’s doing in town, I want nothing to do with it.”