My phone buzzed again.
I held it up. “What did you do?”
She turned off the blender. “That question needs context.”
“You posted the video.”
Tessa winced. On my screen, the clip had accumulated more than eight hundred views. In it, I stood beside Evelyn with my chin raised and announced that I was training for the Lake City Marathon. Tessa had added cheerful music and the caption:
MY BEST FRIEND IS RUNNING A MARATHON. SHE HAS LOST HER MIND AND I HAVE NEVER BEEN PROUDER.
“You posted it publicly.”
“My privacy settings are complicated.”
“You tagged me.”
“I was excited.”
“My coworkers have seen this.”
“Your coworkers support fitness.”
“My mother has seen this.”
“Your mother has already texted me.”
I stared at her.
“She wants to know whether spectators need tickets.”
“Tessa.”
“I’m sorry.” She set down a dish towel. “I should have asked. I thought you meant it.”
“I said it because Evelyn looked at me like I had never done anything unpredictable in my life.”
“That is not a good reason to run twenty-six miles.”
“Twenty-six point two.”
“Not the important correction.”
I opened another message. My manager had written,Impressivegoal,Amy.We’llallbecheeringyouon.A college friend sent shoe recommendations. My aunt asked whether I was collecting donations. Evelyn liked the video. Tessa offered to delete it, but the announcement had already escaped us.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said.
“Yes, I do.”
“Because Evelyn expects it?”
“Not entirely.”
“What percentage?”
“I haven’t calculated it.”
“That means more than fifty.”
