Fangirl

bad?”
    “Probably not anymore. I broke her in for you—” Reagan lifted her white button-down shirt over her head and reached for a black sweater. Her bra was bright purple.
    This. This was exactly the sort of thing that crawled into Cath’s head and kept her from kissing Levi. Getting to see his ex-girlfriend’s Technicolor lingerie. Knowing exactly who it was who broke him in. If only Cath didn’t like Reagan so much …
    Reagan crossed over to Cath’s side of the room, leaning over and sticking the top of her head in Cath’s face. “Does my hair smell like garlic bread?”
    Cath took a cautious breath. “Not unpleasantly.”
    “Damn,” Reagan said, standing back up. “I don’t have time to wash it.” She shook her hair out in front of the mirror on the door, then picked up her purse. “Okay,” she said, “unless something goes incredibly wrong, you should have the room to yourself tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
    “I haven’t so far,” Cath said dryly.
    Reagan snorted and walked out.
    Cath frowned at the door. Don’t be jealous. There was already a rule about this, but Cath should make another one, just for herself: Don’t compare yourself to Reagan. It’s like comparing apples and … grapefruits.
    When her phone rang a few minutes later, Cath shook off the last of her green feelings and smiled. Levi was supposed to call her before he went to bed. She picked up the phone and was about to answer when she saw Wren’s name on the screen. WREN.
    She and Wren hadn’t talked—they hadn’t even texted—since Christmas break. Almost three months ago. Why would Wren be calling her now? Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe it was just another wrong C.
    Cath held the phone in her palm and stared at it, like she was waiting for an explanation.
    The phone stopped ringing. Cath watched. It started again.
    WREN.
    Cath pushed Accept and held the phone up to her ear. “Hello?”
    “Hello?” It wasn’t Wren’s voice. “Cather?”
    “Yes?”
    “Thank God. It’s … your mom.”
    Your mom. Cath pulled her ear away.
    “Cather?”
    “Yes,” Cath said faintly.
    “I’m at the hospital with Wren.”
    Your mom. Cather.
    Wren.
    “Why? Is she okay?”
    “She’s had too much to drink. Someone—honestly, I don’t really know anything—someone dropped her off. I thought maybe you’d know.”
    “No,” Cath said, “I don’t. I’m coming. You’re at the hospital?”
    “St. Elizabeth’s. I called your dad already—he’s flying back.”
    “Right,” Cath said. “I’m coming.”
    “Okay,” Laura said. Your mom. “Good.”
    Cath nodded, still holding the phone away from her ear, then let it drop to her lap and pressed End.
    *   *   *
    Reagan came back for her. Cath had tried to call Levi first—not because she thought he could help, he was four hours away—but she wanted to touch base. (The “tag” kind of base. The kind that means safe.) Levi didn’t pick up, so she sent him a bare-bones text, “wren’s in the hospital,” then called her dad. He didn’t pick up either.
    Reagan knew where St. Elizabeth’s was and dropped Cath off at the front door. “Do you need company?”
    “No,” Cath said, hoping that Reagan would see right through her. Reagan didn’t. She drove away, and Cath stood for a moment in the revolving door, feeling like she couldn’t push through.
    The hospital was mostly locked up for the night. The reception desk was empty, and the main elevators were turned off. Cath eventually made her way to the emergency room. A clerk there told her that Wren was already upstairs, and sent Cath down another empty hallway. Eventually she was stepping out of an elevator onto the sixth floor, not sure whom she was looking for.
    When she tried to picture Laura, all Cath could remember was what her mother looked like in family photos. Long brown hair, big brown eyes. Silver rings. Faded jeans. In a simple yellow sundress on her wedding day, already starting to show.
    That woman wasn’t here.
    The waiting room was empty except for a blond woman sitting in the corner, her fists clenched in her lap. She looked up when Cath walked into the room.
    “Cather?”
    It took a few seconds for the lines and colors to resolve into a face Cath thought she might recognize. In those seconds, a part of Cath ran to the blond stranger, wrapped her arms around her thighs, and pressed her face into her stomach. Part of Cath screamed. As loud as she could. And part of