Chapter One

"It's making me sick."

Carmen glanced at the structured canvas bag splayed wantonly in the middle of her bed. Suddenly she wished she had all-new underwear. Her best satin pair was sprouting tiny ropes of elastic from the waistband.

"It's making me sick," Lena said. "I haven't started packing. My flight's at seven."

Carmen flopped the top of the suitcase down on the carpeted floor. She was working on removing navy-blue polish from her toenails.

"Lena, could you not say that word anymore?" Tibby asked, wilting a little on the edge of Carmen's bed. "It's making me sick."

"Which word?" Bridget asked. "Packing? Flight? Seven?" Tibby considered. "All of them."

"Oh, Tibs," Carmen said, grabbing Tibby's foot from where she sat. "It's gonna be okay."

Tibby took her foot back. "It's gonna be okay for you. You're going away. You're going to eat barbecue all the time and light firecrackers and everything.

Tibby had nonsensical ideas about what people did in South Carolina, but Carmen knew not to argue with her. Lena let out a little hum of sympathy.

Tibby turned on her. "Don't make that pity noise, Lena."

Lena cleared her throat. "I didn't," she said quickly, even though she had.

"Don't wallow," Bridget urged Tibby. "You're wallowing."

"No," Tibby shot back. She held up hands crossed at the wrist in a hex sign to ward off Bridget. "No pep talks. No fair. I only let you do pep talks when you need to feel better."

"I wasn't doing a pep talk," Bridget said defensively, even though she was.

Carmen made her wise eyebrows. "Hey, Tibs? Maybe if you're nasty