Behind Emily, the door swung open and Amy walked in. She looked like she was in better shape than Emily was, though her hair was slightly less perfect than usual and there were delicate lavender-colored circles under her eyes.
"Hi, guys." She stared around the coffee shop, taking in the worn and pitted church pews in front of the pastry case, the collection of fancy crosses that lined the walls. Her eyes widened when she spotted the handwritten menu of drinks with names like Liturgical Latte and Antichrist Americano.
"This is wild." She took a deep breath. "Ooooh, and the coffee smells fantastic." Amy wandered over to the counter and returned with a steaming mug that held something frothy and vanilla scented. "Wow. This place is really great. I can't believe I haven't been here before!" She slid into the open seat between Claire and Emily.
"It's good coffee, and they don't care how long you stay," Claire said. "We've been hanging out here since freshman year."
"Really?" Amy looked confused. "I'm surprised I haven't heard Emily mention it more, then."
Claire flinched. "Well, we haven't had as much time to hang out here lately, I guess."
"We hung out here a lot pre-Matthew, is what she means."
Amy shot Emily a meaningful look that made Claire instantly uncomfortable. It was the sort of look that said she and Emily had talked about Claire's lack of Emily-time before. "Yeah, boyfriends can be a huge time suck. Plus, if there's anything, you know, complicated going on, then it's doubly distracting." Amy looked like she'd just pinched Claire and was waiting to see if it had hurt.
Claire rubbed her arm distractedly. Anything complicated going on? What was that supposed to mean? Was Amy trying to convince Emily that there was more behind Claire's disap pearing act than just Matthew? If she was at all suspicious . . . Oh, hell.
Claire cleared her throat. "So, um, other than the cops barging in and hiding behind hot tubs, what did you think of Yolanda's famous party?"
Amy lit up. "Oh my God, it was so fantastic! The music was awesome. And Matthew is so nice, Claire—you're so lucky."
"Uh, thanks."
A teasing smile spread across Amy's face as she stared over at Emily. "Ooooh, and guess what? Emily has a date for the Autumn Ball!"
Claire stared over at her best friend. "What? You do? Why didn't you tell me?"
Emily groaned and slouched lower over her cup. "Because it's Randy Steigerson."
Claire felt her mouth fall open. "Ran—wait. Seriously? You're going to the Autumn Ball with Randy Steigerson?" Randy was the editor of the yearbook. He was tall and sort of gangly. And he had a weird habit of leaning too close to whoever he was talking to.
"He was trapped behind the hot tub with us. Like, for hours. And he gave me his jacket when it got cold. . . . I don't know. I'd had an awful lot of beer before we got stuck back there." Emily put her head down on the table. "It's weeks away. Maybe I can get out of it."
"You look sort of green," Amy said.
"The Randy Steigerson reminder sent me over the edge. This coffee's not working. I need greasy food. Like, now."
"Why don't we go to Louie's?" Amy suggested.
"Perfect." Emily picked her head up and looked at Claire. "You in?"
Claire glanced at her cell phone. Matthew was going to be at her house in an hour and a half, and she still had to shower and change before he got there. She wasn't really finished talking to Emily, but maybe she could use her plans to convince Amy that the only complication in her life was a boyfriend obsession.
"Um"—she hesitated—"it's just . . . it's gotten sort of late, and Matthew and I have plans. . . . "
"Can you call him?" Amy asked. "We haven't even told you what happened with Kate-Marie yet!"
Claire bit her lip. "I know, but we already had to reschedule once because of Yolanda's party. . . ." She did her best to look torn yet love struck. "Why don't you two go ahead?"
Emily scowled into her coffee. "Fine. I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right back, and then we'll go."
Claire watched her best friend walk away, each step driving the sadness and shame deeper into her heart. Each thud of her pulse made it worse. How could it have come to this? She wanted her best friend back—wanted to sit in the familiar coffee shop and have the sort of long, tangentfilled, soul-baring conversations they'd always had. Amy glanced over at Claire. Curiousity and disappointment glimmered in her green eyes.
"It's too bad you can't come with us." Her voice was soft, gentle, but Claire could smell her suspicion. Crap.
"Yeah. Sorry. Maybe I can make it next time," Claire said.
Amy took a long sip of her sweet-smelling drink. "I hope so," she said, turning to face Claire. "I think Emily's awesome. But it's weird, because even though you're her best friend, I know pretty much nothing about you. We should hang out more." Her earnest look startled Claire. There was nothing hidden in Amy's expression—no double-speaking smile, no Morse-code glance.