Peaches

better than that.”
    “She’s lucky she has you.” Murphy was thinking about how wrong the Cawley-Smiths were about him. It was amazing how wrong.
    “She needs me,” Rex said, this time sounding a little wistful.
    “Is that bad?”
    Rex shook his head. “Not at all.”
    With nothing more to say, they both looked out at the parking lot.
    “I love the south of France, don’t you?” Murphy nodded toward the square of concrete as if it were the Mediterranean.
    Rex grinned at her and patted the top of her wrist. His touch felt warm and sweet.
    “Love it. I knew July was the best time to come.”

    Brighton and Danay stood in front of the orchestra. A moment ago Brighton had tapped the microphone and the whole room had quieted. Now all eyes were on Danay and her fiancé.
    Leeda milled nervously beside her parents, uncomfortable about what Murphy had said. She was dying for her mom to say something, anything, about it. Just so she could know what she thought. But Brighton was going on and on, thanking several of the guests by name, then thanking Lucretia and Phil for raising such a smart, beautiful, thoughtful daughter. He dug out the line about how children were a reflection of their parents and that if Danay was a reflection of hers, they must be two very incredible people.
    Leeda wanted to keel over. Until Danay took the mike andadded a special thanks to her, Leeda, her maid of honor. This made Leeda’s heart warm up just a bit.
    “Guys, she’s single,” Danay added. Leeda’s heart turned back into ice. She scanned the room for Rex, but he wasn’t in sight.
    When the speech was over, she felt her mom’s eyes on her and turned. “Well, Leeda, I have to say your friend is colorful.”
    This was what she’d been waiting for. “Murphy just gets…passionate about things, Mom. Anyway, I think she’s right. I don’t think you—”
    “Birdie, you don’t hang around girls like that, do you?”
    Birdie looked strangely tranquil, not fidgety at all. She swayed a little, the chocolate martini in her hands sloshing up the side of the glass. She grinned. “Murphy’s one of my best friends.”
    Leeda blinked at her a few times. Then she turned to her mom defiantly. “Me too, actually. Murphy’s one of my best friends. So you should just try to accept her.” It sounded weird that it had come out. But the more Leeda thought about it, the more it felt true.
    Leeda’s mom frowned, looking over Leeda’s shoulder, then back at her, then touching her lightly on the shoulders and turning her around. “Well, she does seem very passionate about Rex.”
    Leeda’s eyes lighted on Murphy and Rex, standing out on the balcony, looking out at the view together. She turned back around.
    “Oh, please, Mom. They’re my friends. ”
    “Well, they make a neat pair,” Mrs. Cawley-Smith said. “Youhave excellent taste.” She wagged her cocktail napkin, showing that she was empty, and headed back toward the buffet table.
    Leeda stuck her tongue out at her mom’s back, then looked back toward the balcony. It was nice that Murphy and Rex were finally getting along a little. It was.
    “Your mom’s kind of a bitch,” Birdie said, her words long and drawn out.
    Leeda looked at her. “Thanks, Bird.”
    “Sorry.” Birdie smiled apologetically.
    “She thinks she’s looking out for me.”
    Leeda peered out at Murphy and Rex, talking earnestly with each other. She swallowed the tiny lump in her throat.
    “Well, she’s wrong about Murphy and Rex. They can’t stand each other.”
    “I know.”
    Birdie followed her gaze thoughtfully. The view on the balcony told a different story. “Even if they do start getting along, it doesn’t make your mom any less of a bitch.”
    Leeda agreed completely.

    “I’m starving.” Birdie was good and woozy, and her stomach felt achingly empty. “I think I drank too much.”
    “Maybe you have an oral fixation,” Murphy suggested.
    “I was just nervous,” Birdie moaned.
    They were sitting on the steps outside Camp A, talking in low voices. Murphy and Leeda were sitting close to each other, their fight apparently forgotten, though neither of them mentioned Murphy’s display at the party as the reason why. To Birdie, it was obvious.
    “We’ll go into the kitchen and wrassle you up some grub.” Murphy popped up, looking no worse for the wear for all the Manhattans she’d drunk.
    “I have some Girl Scout cookies in my closet upstairs.”
    “You can’t go in the house,”