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"I bet," Star said and then looked at Cat. "You coming back here tomorrow?"
She looked at each of us, her eyes fearful.
"Yes," she said.
"You'd better;' Star said, "or we'll be coming to your house."
"Stop scaring her," Misty ordered. "She'll come. You want to come back, right, Cat?"
Cathy smiled at being called Cat and nodded. She looked toward her mother and lost her smile quickly. "It's hard," I told her, "but it does help. You'll see." I squeezed her hand.
"Okay, bye," she said in a small voice, and walked to her mother's car. We watched her get in and then drive off. Her mother didn't look our way.
"Granny's scowling at me," Star said. "I better get a move on."
"I guess that's Rodney gaping at us from the back seat," I said.
"That's him," she said with a laugh.
"He looks cute," Misty said.
"Don't let him fool you. Cute only lasts a few minutes every day," she said, and Misty and I laughed. "See you tomorrow, girlfriends," she added and walked quickly to her grandmother's car. "What are you gaping at them like that for?" we heard her yell at Rodney. "They're just girls. Get your head in," she ordered and got into the car.
She smiled and waved to us as they pulled away. Misty walked with me to the limousine. The driver got out to open the door.
"It is a pretty day. What are you going to do with the rest of it?" she asked.
"I don't know. I have some magazines to read. I guess I'll just lounge by the pool and work on my tan or paint my fingernails. What about you?"
She shrugged.
"Nothing," she said.
"Give me your phone number," I said. "I'll call you later."
"Really?" She gave it to me and I got into the limousine and rolled down the window.
"I guess what happens, what hurts the most," I said, "is you lose faith. You think, if they can fall out of love, the two people you love the most, the two people you idolized and believed in the most, then how can anything beautiful happen between you and someone? Understand?"
"Yes," she said. "Exactly."
I reached out and she took my hand for a moment. "Maybe, we're better than them,"
she offered.
"Maybe the best of them is in us and we're even better." "Maybe," I said.
She let go and stepped back as the limousine started. Her hand had felt like the string on a balloon. As I rode off, the balloon rose in my imagination. Our four faces were on it and we were drifting into the wind.
Drifting toward something better.
Maybe.
